201D 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 


UNIV,  OF  CAUF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


The  man  is  the  spirit  he  worked  in,  not  what  he  did, 
but  what  he  became. 

He  both  will  bring  to  light  the  hidden  things  of  darkness, 
and  will  make  manifest  the  counsels  of  the  hearts:  and 
then  shall  every  man  have  praise  of  God. 


"HERE  YOU  ARE  AT  LAST. 
IT'S  GOOD.  GOOD  TO  SEE  YOU  AOAIN!" 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 


BY 

LEONORA  B.  HALSTED 


FRONTISPIECE    BY 

H.  RICHARD  BOEHM 


NEW  YORK 

THE  METROPOLITAN  PRESS 
1910 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
THE  METROPOLITAN  PRESS 

Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
(All  Rights  Reserved) 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PRESS   OF   WM.    G.    HETWTTT 

Cl-(i7  NAVY  STREET 
BROOKLYN,  :NEW  YOKK 


TO  THE   FRIENDS 

WHO    HAVE    MADE    MANIFEST    THE    GLORY 
THAT    IS    IN    MAN 


2130315 


"0  star  on  the  breast  of  the  river, 

0  marvel  of  beauty  and  grace, 

Did  you  fall  straight  down  from  heaven, 

Out  of  the  sweetest  place? 
You  are  white  as  the  thoughts  of  an  angel, 

Your  heart  is  steeped  in  the  sun; 
Did  you  grow  in  the  golden  city, 

My  pure  and  radiant  one? 

Nay,  nay,  I  fell  not  out  of  heaven, 
None  gave  me  my  saintly  white; 

It  slowly  grew  from  the  blackness 
Down  in  the  dreary  night. 

From  the  ooze  and  slime  of  the  river 

1  won  my  glory  and  grace. 
White  souls  fall  not,  0  my  poet, 

They  rise  to  the  sweetest  place" 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 


PART  I 


CHAPTER  I 

"A  fixed  idea  that  dominates  a  life." 

FEOM  the  first  childish  remembrance  her  one  desire  was 
to  get  on,  to  move  forward.  She  had  a  passion  for  life, 
an  impulse  to  live  it  with  throbbing  fullness  from  heart 
to  farthest  verge. 

Not  to  be  equal  to  anything  life  offered  was  to  her  the 
sin  of  sins.  When  Chance  held  out  a  hand,  she  seized  it 
eagerly.  To  have  what  she  wanted,  to  do  what  she  chose, 
to  be  what  she  wished,  were  such  strong  lures  that,  in 
stretching  toward  them,  she  paid  small  heed  to  what  might 
be  in  the  way.  But  she  was  never  at  rest  in  the  end  at- 
tained: to  do,  not  to  have  done,  was  the  point.  The  goal 
was  ever  ahead,  the  Heart's  Desire  was  ever  looming  above 
the  rim,  and  toward  it,  ever,  she  pressed  on. 

Under  the  wide  hickory  boughs  that  shaded  the  school- 
yard a  circle  had  been  made,  and  within,  two  little  girls 
were  tussling  valiantly  with  a  big  one.  When  a  second 
big  girl  took  part,  there  came  flying  across  the  yard  a 

1 


3  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

slim  figure  aglow  with  life  who  plunged  at  once  into  the 
fray.  Bertha  Henley  hated  anything  unfair,  and  she 
struck  out  now  to  such  effect  that  in  short  order  she  drove 
off  the  giants,  and  stood  protecting  defiantly  the  little  sis- 
ters who  clung  to  her  in  panting  relief. 

From  the  moment  she  dashed  into  the  ring  every  eye 
hung  on  Bertha.  Bright  as  flame,  she  was  a  dancing 
potency  that  would  not  be  ignored.  Attention,  quivered 
about  her  ready  to  dart ;  in  some  of  those  watching,  it  was 
the  dart  of  the  snake,  quick  to  hiss  and  sting;  in  others 
it  was  the  bird's  motion,  swift  to  follow  its  leader  through 
every  swoop  of  flight. 

When  in  the  pause  an  envious  voice  rasped  the  old  sneer, 
"Augh !  she's  nobody;  she  hain't  got  no  father!"  the  oldest 
boy  in  school  hurled  back  promptly  the  command: 

"Shut  up,  Billy  Blake!  She's  plucky,  and  she  knows 
what's  fair;  I'm  for  her  from  this  out.  Treat  her  decent 
now,  or  you'll  catch  it!" 

He  stepped  close  to  her  side,  and  Bertha  looked  up  at 
him,  her  great  hazel  eyes  sparkling  with  victory.  She  was 
a  child  of  eight;  fair,  freckled,  with  a  tawny  mane.  A 
dull-blue  homespun  dress  hung  on  a  figure  which  showed 
clear  strength  in  its  freedom  of  movement.  Every  atom 
of  her,  body  and  mind,  was  alert, — tense  with  will.  The 
road  had  been  hard  here  at  school,  but  she  gave  no  heed 
to  rocks  or  bogs,  looking  only  to  the  end;  and  she  knew 
that  in  the  last  minute  she  had  reached  with  a  bound  the 
top  of  the  hill.  No  more  would  she  have  to  climb  trees 
and  do  all  sorts  of  woodland  feats  to  excite  her  school- 
mates' interest.  Heretofore  they  had  edged  away  from  her 
at  their  desks,  and  been  shy  of  her  during  recess,  and  when 
she  tried  to  make  friends,  pushed  her  off.  It  had  bewil- 
dered and  hurt  the  child,  she  couldn't  understand,  and  Pa 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  3 

and  Ma  wouldn't  say  anything  except  that  she  must  try 
not  to  mind.  Now  she  needn't  care  any  more,  she  needn't 
mind  at  all,  for  she  had  won  them — they  were  hers. 

After  school  Bertha  ran  home  in  fine  feather,  walking 
on  air.  The  path  led  along  the  edge  of  a  ploughed  field, 
where  the  earth  was  rich  and  dark  under  innumerable 
green  shoots  piercing  the  clods,  and  then  the  way  dipped 
into  the  woods  which  were  intimately  known  to  her.  Every 
hollow  where  ferns  were  uncurling,  as  well  as  the  breezy 
uplands  whence  one  looked  off  over  low  hills  under  a  wide 
reach  of  sky,  was  familiar  footing  to  her  feet.  She  was 
sensitively  aware  of  them  now,  aware  that  they  were  bathed 
in  the  vaporous  lights  and  thin  shadows  of  springtime,  but 
she  was  not  thinking  about  them;  her  mind  was  intent  on 
this  new  thing:  the  exultant  sense  of  power,  and  how  to 
use  it. 

As  she  neared  the  cottage  she  saw  Pa's  slouching  figure,, 
bent  with  toil,  trudging  along  the  road,  his  battered  hat 
mellow  in  the  low  sunbeams,  a  saw  under  his  arm,  and  a 
kit  of  tools  in  his  hand.  She  leaped  forward  and  caught 
the  other  hand  swinging  beside  him,  and  shouted  happily : 

"Here  I  am,  Pa!  And,  oh,  I  had  such  a  good  time  at 
school  to-day.  Tim  Goodwin  told  that  mean  Billy  Blake 
to  keep  quiet  about  me,  or  he'd  catch  it!  so  now  they 
hold  their  tongues.  You  see,  I'd  fought  for  those  silly 
little  Wimple  girls" — and  she  told  the  story  with  much 
impetuous  fluency. 

Pa  looked  down  at  the  gay  little  figure  prancing  along 
beside  him,  so  overflowing  with  life  that  she  took  a  grace- 
step  now  and  then  simply  to  get  rid  of  extra  energy,  and 
his  mild  blue  eyes  beamed  with  affection,  while  his  pride 
in  her  showed  through  every  line  of  his  weather-beaten  face. 
As  he  listened  to  her  tale,  however,  there  was  something 


4  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

especially  tender  in  his  expression.  It  was  cruel-hard  for 
the  little  one  to  be  so  badgered,  but  he  was  glad  she  took 
it  all  with  such  spirit.  She  should  never  fail  of  any  help 
he  could  give  her,  that  was  certain,  but  he  knew  it  wouldn't 
be  apt  to  go  very  far. 

Presently  the  small  frame  house  that  was  home  to  them 
came  in  sight.  It  had  a  prim  garden  in  front  bounded  by 
a  whitewashed  fence.  A  flower-border,  Pa's  care,  ran 
either  side  the  straight  path  from  gate  to  porch,  and  he 
stopped  now  to  set  straight  a  stick  or  two  which  told  where 
twining  things  would  presently  appear.  But  what  took 
Bertha's  eyes  with  ever  fresh  delight  these  spring  days  was 
the  large  cherry  tree  spreading  over  the  low  roof  its  ample 
branches  now  laden  with  live  snow,  that  had  a  faint,  pun- 
gent fragrance  eagerly  drawn  in  by  the  child.  She  noticed, 
too,  how  many  shoots  had  uncurled  since  morning  on  the 
brown  stems  of  the  woodbine  that  all  winter  had  embroid- 
ered a  pattern  on  the  cottage ;  a  pattern  now  beginning  to 
fill  in  with  the  burnished  gosling-green  of  young  leaves. 
She  hated  to  go  in  and  leave  it  all — the  wide  out-of-doors 
that  suited  her  literally  down  to  the  ground — and  she  hung 
back  on  Pa's  hand,  but  he  held  tight  and  pulled  her  along. 

"You  won't  get  any  supper  if  you  don't  come  in,"  he 
warned,  and  at  this  suggestion  she  followed  reluctantly. 

Ma  was  still  at  work  by  the  kitchen  window,  straining 
to  get  a  few  more  stitches  taken  before  the  light  should 
fail.  She  was  tall  and  thin,  with  sandy  hair  twisted  into 
a  solid  knot  behind,  and  the  front  locks  brushed  back  hard 
from  the  worn  face;  her  needle  glanced  in  the  sunset  as 
her  gnarled  fingers  pushed  and  pulled.  She  looked  up 
when  Bertha  danced  toward  her,  eager  to  tell  the  great 
story  again,  and  bade  the  child  not  to  upset  her  spools; 
then  her  eyes  passed  to  the  old  man  bending  over  the  fire, 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  5 

and  rested  on  him  for  a  moment  with  an  expression  of 
peace.  The  tension  of  being  apart  was  eased,  and  things 
fell  into  their  usual  wont.  When  she  turned  to  her  needle 
again  it  was  with  a  long-drawn  breath  of  content,  which 
Bertha's  voluble  tale  and  lively  gyrations  could  not  dis- 
turb. 

This  atmosphere  of  content,  in  spite  of  arduous  work, 
had  been  about  Bertha  ever  since  the  childless  old  couple 
had  adopted  her  to  their  hearts.  They  were  simple,  unlet- 
tered folk,  clean  in  body  and  mind.  Pa  was  very  tender 
to  his  little  girl  always,  while  Ma  loved  as  much  perhaps, 
but  was  more  strict  and  stern ;  her  aim  being  to  get  rid  of 
the  bad,  Pa's  to  foster  the  good. 

"The  child  ain't  a  bit  like  anybody  else,"  Ma  often  said 
helplessly;  but  she  held  Bertha  to  plain  work,  such  as 
washing  dishes,  scraping  vegetables,  scrubbing  floors,  and 
polishing  tins,  until  the  teeming  activity  of  the  child  was 
irked  almost  beyond  endurance.  Bertha  resented  the  pov- 
erty of  the  things  about  her,  and  even  more  she  resented 
the  poverty  of  mind  in  which  her  foster-parents  acquiesced. 
She  did  not  live  in  their  world,  and  to-night  more  than 
ever  she  felt  the  surge  of  ability  to  create  something  quite 
different.  She  looked  about  the  painfully  clean  kitchen, 
noting  the  polished  stove,  the  bright  pans  struck  to  impish 
winkings  by  the  sunset  glow,  the  scrubbed  and  sanded 
floor,  the  table  with  its  red  cloth,  fluid  lamp,  and  big 
black  Bible,  and  there  was  a  sense  of  exultance  within  her ; 
some  time  she'd  be  rid  of  it  all !  She  was  going  to  be 
Somebody,  she'd  have  lots  of  things  and  do  what  she  liked 
with  them.  Billy  Blake  and  Meg  Tuttle  and  the  rest 
should  find  out  she  had  something  in  her;  she'd  show  them ! 
and  she  went  off  on  another  irrepressible  spin  around  the 
room;  or  stopped  short  with  a  dish  in  one  hand  and  a 


6  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

spoon  in  the  other  as  some  new  plan  for  capturing  her 
playmates'  fancy  suddenly  struck  her. 

When  these  plans  were  put  into  execution  during  the 
succeeding  days  and  months,  each  one  was  so  compelling 
that  dullness  and  insipidity  vanished  before  her.  Every 
circle  she  set  spinning;  she  cared  little  for  consequences, 
so  that  it  moved.  She  took  an  ardent  interest  in  every- 
body, and  if  they  had  the  least  responsiveness  she  made 
them  live  to  the  top  of  their  bent.  The  pressure  of  her 
personal  sway  hurried  them,  indeed,  until  they  gasped 
sometimes  at  the  pace,  even  dropped  by  the  way  exhausted, 
or  stood  stock-still  in  rebellion;  a  fact  which,  after  a  few 
frantic  efforts  to  force  them  forward,  did  not  trouble  her, 
for  if  this  top  didn't  spin,  another  would,  and  she  passed 
on  to  the  next.  Withal,  she  had  small  concern  with  any 
program,  or  any  deep-laid  plan;  she  simply  lived  her  own 
life  audaciously,  fearlessly,  expecting  others  to  do  the  same 
and  take  the  chances.  Of  course  she  got  herself  and  her 
followers  into  innumerable  scrapes,  but  she  got  out  of  them 
also,  and  generally  tugged  the  others  along,  not  without 
credit  to  herself.  In  truth,  she  was  a  born  leader,  and 
life  here  presented  her  with  the  first  master's  degree,  which 
she  took  lightly  with  a  sense  of  coming  to  her  own. 

So  was  it  with  schooling.  Her  mind  was  determined 
to  know :  to  learn  how  was  a  consuming  desire ;  it  consumed 
every  barrier  across  her  way.  A  fence  was  to  her  merely 
a  hurdle ;  the  higher,  the  more  exultation  in  the  leap.  She 
threw  herself  on  her  lessons  with  a  will  which  let  her  know 
easily  in  quarter  the  time  what  the  other  children  had  to 
pore  over.  This  left  her  leisure  to  think  of  all  the  thou- 
sand other  things  she  wanted  to  know;  and  kindly  Miss 
Barcom,  not  well  equipped  herself,  was  driven  half  crazy 
by  Bertha's  multitudinous  questions,  until  out  of  self-de- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  7 

fense  she  was  compelled  to  restrict  the  child's  endless  in- 
quiries. 

In  lieu  of  knowledge,  therefore,  Bertha's  fecund  brain 
fed  itself  on  dreams.  She  made  verses  and  imagined  tales, 
scribbling  them  on  her  slate  or  on  shingles,  and  living  far 
more  vividly  in  the  world  thus  created  than  in  that  of 
humdrum  circumstance.  Hours  enough  to  make  many  a 
week  she  spent  lying  on  a  couch  of  pine-leaves  under  lofty 
trees,  watching  the  far-off  branches  sway  against  the  blue ; 
or  she  balanced  in  some  crotch  of  the  spiked  boughs,  talk- 
ing to  the  birds  and  butterflies.  A  wisp  of  straw  dropped 
by  a  nest-building  bird  on  the  top  of  a  tree  and  covered 
with  moisture,  looked  to  her  a  fairy's  sceptre;  and  she 
climbed  eagerly  until  she  reached  that  topmost  bough  to 
find  it  only  what  it  was :  no  magic  wand,  but  a  bit  of  the 
refuse  of  earth  jeweled  by  the  dews  of  heaven. 

Once  school  hours  were  over  she  hied  away  to  the  woods, 
and  let  mind  as  well  as  body  rove  untrammeled.  Bit  and 
bridle  fell  away;  the  tense  muscles  of  her  will  relaxed,  for 
here  all  was  friendly  and  familiar;  she  had  nothing  to 
conquer — it  was  all  hers.  She  would  lie  in  the  wheat  fields 
and  look  up  among  the  bearded  yellow  stalks  waving  like 
little  trees  against  the  sky,  and  feel  herself  a  fairy.  How 
nice  to  be  so  little  and  light !  She  would  watch  the  insects 
climb,  and  fly,  and  hover,  and  she  delighted  in  the  field- 
mice  even  when  the  soft  little  things  ran  up  her  legs  and 
popped  out  at  her  throat.  She  laughed  gaily  at  their 
bright,  frightened  eyes,  and  held  them  long  enough  to 
scold  them  for  being  afraid  of  her,  and  then  put  them 
down  to  scamper  away  while  she  called  after  them  merrily, 
"Good-bye!  Come  again!" 

As  she  grew  older,  her  favorite  haunt  became  the 
grounds  of  the  notable  place  of  the  neighborhood,  which 


8  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

she  had  never  seen  occupied,  but  which  was  kept  up  with 
care.  She  used  to  wander  through  the  pine  woods  that 
lay  below  the  hill  upon  which  the  house  stood,  or  lie  curled 
up  in  the  branches  of  the  oaks  by  the  pond,  and  fancy 
herself  the  princess  of  this  domain.  There  was  an  affinity 
in  her  for  the  best  that  came  near,  and  this  therefore  was 
the  place  of  all  others  where  she  would  like  to  live.  Not 
but  that  she  preferred  the  city:  that  was  her  dream,  a 
dream  of  all  things  fair,  including  nature,  but  supremely 
human  nature.  To  have  life  surging  and  pulsing  about 
her  for  miles  on  every  side,  to  have  a  million  new  people 
to  meet,  and  learn,  and  know — ah,  that  would  be  heaven! 
But  this  was  the  best  on  earth. 

It  was  a  large  house  with  a  lofty,  pillared  porch,  and 
many  windows  hidden  by  green  blinds.  To  Bertha  it  was 
simply  the  house  in  which  gentle-folk  lived.  It  stood  on 
a  hill  against  a  background  of  trees,  and  looked  off  to 
the  west  over  billowing  land,  crested  here  and  there  by 
woods,  with  calms  of  meadows  between;  a  tranquil  green 
landscape,  unless  the  low  sun  flamed  to  the  zenith  and  sent 
a  strange  glow  over  the  country  far  and  near. 

She  would  sit  on  the  steps  of  the  spacious  porch  in  the 
summer  afternoons  by  the  hour.  Glorious  sunsets  she  saw 
there,  and  gorgeous  air-castles  did  she  build  from  the 
quarry  they  provided.  To  go  to  Sunset  Hill  became  her 
pilgrimage;  it  was  a  little  far,  but  it  was  worth  while. 

The  caretaker  let  her  go  over  the  house  once,  and  she 
was  deeply  impressed  by  the  big  mirrors,  the  gilded  frames, 
and  the  many  rooms  so  elaborately  furnished;  but  she 
thought  the  grey  bare  floors  not  nearly  so  nice  as  Ma's 
immaculate  boards.  When  she  said  something  of  the  sort 
the  caretaker  laughed,  and  took  her  upstairs  where  he 
showed  her  rolls  on  rolls  of  carpet  that  would  be  put  down 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  9 

if  any  one  were  coming  home.  She  was  awed  at  the 
thought  of  such  vast  luxury,  and  then  in  a  trice  knew  it 
was  exactly  what  she  wanted,  and  appropriated  it  at  once 
for  her  dreams.  To  have  her  feet  sink  into  carpets  thick 
as  the  moss  by  the  pond ;  to  see  pictures  of  beautiful  places 
and  wonderful  people  on  the  walls  framed  in  gold ;  to  own 
all  of  them  and  have  some  of  them  yours  by  blood — what 
immeasurable  joy ! 

"Why  don't  they  come  back?"  she  asked  the  old  man. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Grey,  who  owns  the  place  now  since  his  mother 
died,  he  can't  come  back  while  his  wife's  alive.  She's 
sickly,  and  they  say  she  can't  bear  the  climate  here — too 
cold  or  something.  She's  a  sweet  lady,  I  ain't  holdin 
anythin'  'gainst  her,  but  they  do  say  she  hates  this  place/' 
and  he  shook  his  head  at  the  recurrent  grudge. 

"How  strange!"  commented  the  girl,  looking  about  her 
intently;  then  she  tried  to  conjure  up  scenes  that  would 
make  this  appear  one  to  abandon.  It  was  difficult,  for  her 
imagination  had  few  facts  to  work  with.  Though  she  had 
long  since  devoured  the  sparse  books  of  the  community, 
they  left  her  empty;  but  of  one  thing  she  was  sure:  only 
cities  could  keep  people  away  from  a  place  like  this. 


CHAPTER  II 

IT  was  a  perfect  June  day  in  the  year  Bertha  was  twelve 
that  a  leaf  was  turned  in  her  life's  book.  School  had 
closed,  and  Ma  planned  during  vacation  to  teach  the  child 
many  domestic  duties  which  lessons  had  been  a  pretext  for 
shirking;  but  she  had  first  to  catch  her  hare,  and  this  was 
no  easy  matter,  for  Bertha  was  shrewder  than  other  wild 
things.  She  was  up  and  out  on  tiptoe  in  the  early  dawn 
before  the  old  folks  were  awake,  and  touching  ground  her 
feet  flew  straight  to  her  favorite  haunts,  carrying  her  in 
the  fleet  security  with  which  a  bird  cleaves  the  air.  .  A 
marvelous  vitality  tingled  in  every  particle  of  her  being: 
her  shape  and  coloring  seemed  its  very  type.  The  zest  for 
life,  the  urgent  joy  of  mere  existence,  pushed  her  into 
many  a  madcap  freak.  She  would  run  races  with  the  rab- 
bits till  her  breath  was  fairly  gone;  she  would  strip  and 
dash  into  the  pond  and  swim  about  swift  as  a  fish;  or  dive 
and  come  up  shaking  back  her  hair,  to  laugh  with  the  wild 
glee  of  childhood;  and,  when  she  was  tired,  she  would  lie 
perfectly  still  in  sun  or  shadow,  her  arms  under  her  head, 
basking  in  the  sense  of  sheltered  repose : — a  happy  animal. 

To-day  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  she  found  herself 
in  her  chosen  seat,  high  up  on  an  oak,  close  by  the  water, 
where  the  branches  spread  wide  and  low.  She  was  balan- 
cing herself  to  the  wind's  motion,  delighting  in  the  buoy- 
ancy of  her  perch,  and  crooning  softly,  when  she  heard  a 
whistle  and  a  footstep  coming  through  the  woods.  She 

10 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  11 

peeped  around  her  big  branch  cautiously  to  see  who  could 
be  below :  a  stranger !  a  man !  a  gentleman !  It  was  warm 
weather,  and  he  had  a  straw  hat  in  his  hands,  which  were 
clasped  behind  him  as  he  strolled  along;  she  watched  every 
movement  as  if  her  life  depended  on  not  missing  one.  His 
air  of  distinction,  of  elevation  above  the  humdrum  level  of 
her  daily  life,  made  her  feel  him  at  once  a  hero.  The  sad- 
ness of  his  face  but  enhanced  her  intense  interest:  how 
romantic  to  be  sad ! 

Swayed  either  by  the  unconscious  attraction  of  her  pres- 
ence, or  by  the  inviting  aspect  of  a  seat  at  the  foot  of  her 
tree,  where  she  had  heaped  leaves  between  the  roots  to 
make  a  luxurious  armchair,  he  sat  down,  and  gave  a  little 
exclamation  of  surprise  at  finding  himself  so  comfortable, 
looking  about  him  a  moment  with  curiosity.  Then  he 
threw  aside  his  hat  and  leaned  back,  content  to  enjoy  the 
goods  the  fairies  had  provided.  The  outlook  sloped  toward 
the  pond  and  the  lively  little  brook  that  drained  it,  so 
that  he  had  no  incentive  to  glance  above,  where,  intent  on 
his  every  movement,  and  hardly  daring  to  draw  breath, 
throbbed  the  young  girl. 

Here  was  a  new  person  dropped  into  her  world,  undoubt- 
edly the  owner  of  Fernside,  for  much  bustle  had  been 
going  on  there,  and  the  flustered  caretaker  had  told  her 
the  wife  was  dead  and  Mr.  Grey  would  return.  Surely 
this  was  he.  He  had  a  broad  band  of  black  on  his  hat, 
but  his  clothes  were  grey,  the  finest  clothes  she  had  ever 
seen — and  he  so  careless  of  them.  This  was  the  way  men 
ought  to  dress  and  appear.  He  was  quite  old,  perhaps 
thirty  or  even  thirty-five,  with  abundant  wavy  brown  hair, 
a  mustache  and  a  dab  of  beard  under  the  lips.  How  dis- 
tinguished he  was,  how  unlike  any  other  man  she  had  ever 
seen! 


13  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

He  drew  in  several  long  breaths  as  if  reveling  in  the 
delicious  odor  of  wild  grape  that  made  the  air  sweet;  and 
looked  about  to  note  the  beautiful  woodland,  animate  with 
lights  and  shadows  that  chased  one  another  in  the  gentle 
breeze  like  expressions  over  a  loved  face.  The  rhythmic 
sound  of  the  wind  in  the  trees  was  stilling  his  heart  to 
listen  as  its  intermittent  waves  came  and  went,  never  twice 
the  same.  He  sat  quiet  for  awhile,  sighing  now  and  then 
as  if  his  thoughts  were  heavy;  then  evidently  they  began 
to  lighten.  The  profound  'sense  of.  repose  had  hushed  his 
trouble,  and  was  touching  his  nature  to  new  harmony. 

Presently  he  began  to  hum  and  then  to  sing;  the  true, 
clear  voice  made  the  shivers  run  over  her,  but  this  did  not 
prevent  her  from  drinking  in  eagerly  the  air  he  sung, 
which  became  at  once  part  of  her  consciousness.  He  re- 
peated it  several  times,  making  slight  variations  here  and 
there,  and,  as  he  went  along,  the  lines  to  fit  it  came  sing- 
ing themselves  into  her  mind;  not  a  halt,  only  a  blank 
word  now  and  then  —  she  could  easily  fill  those  in 
afterwards.  She  leaned  forward  in  her  leafy  nest,  her 
eyes  glowing  on  her  unconscious  companion,  whose  song 
presently  lapsed  into  silence.  It  was  the  first  time  she 
had  heard  a  man's  trained  voice,  but  she  was  aware  that 
here  was  one  who  knew  how,  and  the  mastery  gave  her  a 
thrill  of  delight.  He  looked  off  over  the  pond,  and  flung 
a  pebble  or  two  into  the  water  as  if  to  break  the  current 
of  his  thoughts;  then  moved  restlessly  and  picked  up  his 
hat.  Oh,  he  mustn't  go  away  until  she  could  speak  to  him  ! 
But  a  sudden  shyness  overcame  »her;  she  could  neither 
speak  nor  move.  He  brushed  his  hat,  rose,  and  started  off 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  she  cried.  She  had  spoken  involuntarily 
and  was  frightened  by  the  sound  of  her  own  voice.  She 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  13 

shrunk  back  as  she  heard  it,  and  let  the  great  branch  hide 
her  again. 

"Hallo!"  he  exclaimed,  looking  into  the  dense  mass 
above  him.  "Who's  up  there?" 

She  did  not  reply;  she  was  quaking,  yet  ready  to  laugh, 
it  was  so  funny. 

"Is  there  any  one  up  there?"  he  repeated.  "If  so,  show 
yourself." 

No  answer. 

"I  am  an  idiot,"  he  grumbled,  turning  away.  "If  trees 
are  going  to  talk Yet  certainly 

He  stopped  short,  for  a  high  childish  voice  began  to  sing 
the  melody  he  had  been  composing,  with  words  he  was  sure 
he  had  never  heard. 

"By  George!"  he  exclaimed,  under  his  breath  not  to 
interrupt,  and  he  came  back  softly,  peering  up  through 
the  branches  and  listening  with  keen  ears.  He  knew 
where  she  was,  but  he  could  catch  no  glimpse  of  her,  and 
she,  who  had  seen  him  turn  back,  sung  one  verse  after 
another  with  increasing  courage  and  volume.  At  length 
she  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  for  peeping  down  to  see  if  he 
were  still  below,  she  caught  sight  of  his  amazement  and 
broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter,  throwing  herself  back  against 
the  branches,  careless  now  of  being  seen,  with  an  abandon 
that  made  her  look  to  the  man  below  a  veritable  dryad. 

"Take  care!    You'll  fall,"  he  cried. 

"Fall!"  she  echoed  in  a  tone  of  derision,  and  thrust  her 
head  beyond  the  limb  to  see  what  he  could  bte  thinking  of. 

"By  Jove !"  he  exclaimed  again,  as  her  fair  face  with 
its  bright  eyes  leaped  into  sight.  "This  is  a  miracle. 
Come  down,  or  I  shall  have  to  go  up  after  you." 

"  You'd  be  welcome,"  said  she  demurely,  with  fun  in  her 
face.  She  moved  on  her  bough  as  if  to  make  room  for 


14  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

him.  He  looked  at  the  tree,  and  then  down  at  his  unac- 
customed legs  ruefully. 

"I  can't  do  it,"  he  said.  "I'm  too  old.  Be  good  to  me 
and  come  down." 

There  was  a  rustle  of  leaves,  a  crackle  of  branches,  the 
swing  of  a  lissom  blue  figure,  and  the  maiden  stood  before 
him. 

She  was  an  attractive  sight,  here  in  the  depth  of  wild- 
wood,  this  young  creature  of  the  Diana  type,  with  tawny 
hair  rippling  around  a  milk-white  forehead,  arched  eye- 
brows and  long  lashes,  a  straight,  well-cut  nose,  and  full 
lips  parted  to  disclose  even,  teeth  and  a  rosy  tongue. 
Against  the  background  of  young  verdure  and  blue-and- 
silver  water  she  seemed  the  very  embodiment  of  spring. 
Her  big  hazel  eyes  gazing  up  at  him  with  vivid  interest 
had  a  shock  of  life  in  them  such  as  he  had  never  met: 
they  brought  him  to  action  at  once. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  said,  putting  out  his  hand  with  a 
kindly  smile.  "Whoever  you  are,  little  marvel,  let  us  be 
friends." 

She  looked  shyly  at  her  hands,  stained  with  bark  and 
leaves,  then  at  his,  so  shapely  and  well-kept,  and  her  eyes 
leaped  to  him  with  a  query  that  was  instantly  answered : 
they  shook  hands  heartily. 

"That's  right,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction.  "It's 
plain  you  know  whom  to  trust.  Now  tell  me,  where  did 
you  get  those  verses  you  sung  to  my  tune?  They  really 
fitted  it  remarkably  well." 

"It  was  your  tune,  then?"  she  exclaimed,  with  frank 
delight.  "I  thought  it  must  be,  because  you  went  over  it 
just  as  I  do  when  I  can't  find  a  word  that  suits." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  made  those  verses?"  he  ejacu- 
lated incredulously. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  15 

"Yes;  they  came  to  me  while  you  were  singing."  She 
looked  at  him  candidly,  her  eyes  dark  and  full  of  dream. 

"Most  extraordinary!"  he  murmured,  studying  her  with 
keen  attention;  she  might  be  surprising  him  at  the  ex- 
pense of  truth.  "Do  you  often  do  that  sort  of  thing?" 

"No,  I  never  did  until  to-day;  I  never  had  a  chance 
before." 

"Sudden  inspiration,  eh?"  he  laughed  with  renewed 
doubt. 

She  was  bewildered  and  hurt  by  his  tone,  and  felt  ready 
to  cry.  He  was  aware  of  having  made  a  slip  and  tried  to 
set  her  again  at  ease  as  well  as  to  satisfy  his  own  curiosity 
by  saying:  "Tell  me,  do  you  read  much?  Where  did  you 
find  those  verses?" 

"Why,  I  have  told  you!"  she  answered,  indignant  and 
aggrieved.  "They  just  sung  themselves  to  me  while  you 
were  singing,"  and  she  turned  her  head  away  to  hide  the 
tears  that  would  start.  She  could  not  understand  why 
any  one  should  distrust  her,  for  what  was  the  use  t>f  pre- 
tending? It  was  for  herself  that  she  craved  recognition 
and  esteem.  He  had  some  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
and  he  believed  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  taking  off  his  hat,  and 
holding  out  his  hand  again,  his  face  grave  with  courtesy. 
"You  must  forgive  me,  for  I  simply  did  not  understand." 

She  brushed  away  her  tears,  ever  quick  to  spring  toward 
kindness,  and  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"Sit  down  here,  and  let  us  talk  a  little,"  he  added  then, 
waving  her  toward  the  seat  she  had  made. 

She  sank  into  it  as  a  bird  settles,  glad  to  cover  her  cop- 
per-toed shoes  that  were  so  rusty  and  battered.  He 
stretched  himself  beside  her,  not  only  diverted  for  the 
moment,  but  aroused  by  this  unusual  and  evidently  gifted 


16  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

girl.  She,  meanwhile,  thrilled  to  think  how  romantic  they 
must  look;  and,  deeper,  she  had  a  sense  that  this  was  a 
great  date  in  her  life;  to  her  imagination,  where  noon 
crowded  dawn,  at  this  moment  the  clock  struck  twelve. 

"Let  me  hear  the  verses  again,  will  you?"  he  asked 
quietly. 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  her  lips  moving  as  she  made 
sure  of  the  words.  Then  she  turned  to  him  and  repeated 
the  lines  in  a  simple  way  that  had  its  charm. 

"Ah,  but  you  leave  out  my  tune,"  he  said  reproachfully. 

"You  know  how  to  sing  and  I  don't,"  she  answered 
shyly.  "You  sing  it." 

"But  I  shan't  remember  your  words,  I'm  afraid."  He 
tried  them,  however,  to  Bertha's  intense  delight.  She 
leaned  forward  breathless,  her  hands  clasped  tight,  her 
eyes  brilliant,  to  hear  her  words  sung  by  this  elegant  gen- 
tleman ! — 

"Do  you  know  any  others?"  he  asked  when  he  had 
ended. 

"Lots,"  she  cried  eagerly.  "I  could  tell  you  a  book 
full." 

"Let  me  hear  a  few,"  and  she  entertained  him  for  a 
while  with  her  rhymes  and  fancies. 

"That's  very  nice,"  he  said  then,  checking  her.  "You 
have  a  good  ear,  and  I'm  glad  you've  got  the  brain  to  use 
it." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"What  for,  my  little  woman?" 

"For  being  kind  to  me,"  she  answered  simply. 

"Isn't  everybody?  But  you  haven't  told  me  yet  about 
yourself.  Who  are  you?" 

"I  am  Bertha,  Pa  and  Ma  Henley's  little  girl.  Mr. 
Sims,  the  gardener,  lets  me  come  here,  for  I  don't  do  any 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  17, 

harm."    She  looked  at  him  anxiously  to  see  if  he  would 
mind,  and  he  said  promptly: 

"Of  course  you  don't;  come  all  you  like.  You  go  to 
school  in  winter?  But  it's  vacation  now,  of  course;  are 
you  glad  of  that?" 

"Yes — no;  not  particularly." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  like  to  study;  but  then,  I  love  the  woods." 

"So  do  I.  I  used  to  be  very  happy  here  as  a  lad,"  and 
he  sighed  while  the  lines  of  his  face  drooped  together; 
but  he  recovered  himself  in  a  moment.  "You  must  know 
pretty  nearly  all  they  can  teach  you  in  the  district  school?" 

"I  do." 

"What  are  you  going  about  next,  then?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  with  a  note  of  depression  in 
her  voice. 

"You  must  have  some  idea  in  that  remarkable  little 
head  of  yours.  Ah,  I  see  you  have,"  as  her  eyes  flashed 
to  his.  "Well,  out  with  it;  don't  be  afraid.  There  are 
ever  so  many  things  that  look  hard  and  come  easy  when 
you  try." 

"I  know  that." 

"What  a  little  wiseacre  it  is!  and  said  in  such  a  tone 
of  conviction,  too.  Tell  me  now,  what  is  it  you've  tried 
that  seemed  hard  and  proved  easy  ?" 

"I  went  to  school  when  Ma  didn't  want  me  to." 

"So  Ma's  an  ogre,  is  she?    And  what  else?" 

"I  made  them  like  me  at  school."  She  drew  her  slender 
form  upright  with  conscious  pride. 

"That  can't  have  been  hard;  no  one  could  help  it." 

"They  tried  to  help  it,  but  they  couldn't."  Her  eyes 
sparkled  with  a  sudden  sense  of  humor,  as  well  as  power. 


18  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"By  Jove,  this  is  a  prodigy!"  he  exclaimed,  leaning  on 
his  elbow  and  watching  her  with  swift  growth  of  interest. 

As  for  her,  she  learned  his  every  feature  by  heart  in 
that  first  meeting:  his  straight  profile,  his  mobile  nostrils, 
his  self-possessed  lips,  but  above  all  his  eyes ;  blue  eyes  like 
the  sky  with  the  sunshine  in  it  when  he  smiled,  but  mostly 
shadowed  eyes,  like  the  myrtle  blossoms  she  loved. 

"Well,  what  is  this  tremendous  thing  you  have  in  mind, 
that  looks  too  hard  for  you  to  attempt,  even  with  such 
experience  ?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment;  then,  "I  want  to  go  to  the 
seminary !"  she  exclaimed,  and  held  her  breath  at  her  own 
audacity.  She  had  not  whispered  the  aspiration  to  a  soul 
before,  but  sympathy  makes  the  dumb  speak. 

"I  should  think  that  might  be  managed,"  said  her  new 
friend  carelessly. 

"I  mean,"  she  insisted,  her  breath  coming  quick  and  her 
eyes  compelling,  "I  want  to  go  to  the  seminary  at  Evans- 
ville  and  learn  everything — everything; — but  it  costs  two 
hundred  whole  dollars  a  year!" 

"Hm,  does  it  cost  that  much?"  he  commented,  digging 
holes  with  his  stick  in  the  leafy  mold  while  he  meditated. 
What  to  do  with  this  child  was  the  question.  He  had  the 
best  will  in  the  world  to  help  her.  Moreover,  he  had  been 
wishing  of  late  for  some  new  interest.  He  had  come  back 
to  his  home  moved  by  the  restlessness  of  grief;  it  was  too 
great  to  bear  nursing;  one  might  as  well  nurse  a  devouring 
lion;  it  had  to  be  kept  at  bay  or  it  would  prove  tyrant. 
And  here  had  sprung  up  at  his  feet,  over  his  head,  a  fresh 
interest,  a  living  and  very  lively  one:  what  should  he  do 
with  it? 

They  talked  on  for  some  time,  he  drawing  her  out,  she 
excited  and  happy;  her  horizon  suddenly  enlarged,  its 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  19 

confines  leaping  so  far  that  the  firmament  above  and  the 
firmament  below  were  undivided,  for  possible  and  impos- 
sible merged. 

After  a  while  he  looked  at  his  watch  (a  real  gold  watch !) 
and  remarked  that  it  was  already  six.  She  sprung  to  her 
feet  in  alarm. 

"Oh,  I  must  run  home  just  as  fast  as  I  can!"  she  cried. 
"Fm  never  away  at  meal  times." 

He  laughed  at  this  naive  avowal,  and  the  laugh  made  her 
blush  crimson  as  she  explained  hastily  that  she  knew  she 
was  a  naughty  girl,  neglecting  her  sewing  and  housework 
and  all  that,  but  she  wouldn't  for  anything  hurt  Pa  by  let- 
ting him  think  she  was  lost,  as  he  surely  would  if  she  didn't 
come  home  to  supper. 

"That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Grey,  his  eyes  almost  affection- 
ate as  they  rested  on  her  where  she  stood  in  the  low  rays 
of  the  summer  sun — a  delightful  picture.  He  got  to  his 
feet  slowly.  "Tell  your  Pa  that  I'm  coming  to-morrow  to 
see  him.  Now  good-night,  little  poet,"  and  he  patted  her 
shoulder  gently. 

"Good-night,  sir,"  she  replied,  looking  up  at  him  with 
eyes  full  of  fervent  candor.  Then  she  tipped  to  run  with 
swift-footed  flight.  He  watched  her  light  motion  as  she 
diminished  down  the  woodland  path,  and  he  was  satisfied 
in  the  watching.  She  seemed  to  waft  along  without  effort, 
as  thistledown  is  blown.  So  must  Diana's  maidens  have 
appeared  to  the  Greeks,  an  apotheosis  of  nature. 

How  came  she  to  be  what  she  was?  he  asked  himself 
as  he  turned  homeward.  Something  unusual  must  have 
gone  into  her  makeup;  he  must  find  out  what. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  next  day  when  Bertha  saw  him  a  long  way  off  (she 
wasn't  out  of  sight  of  the  cottage  this  day !)  she  flew  to  Pa, 
crying  in  a  huddle  of  words : 

"Mr.  Grey's  coming!  Mr.  Grey's  coming!  I  met  him 
in  the  woods  yesterday — he  told  me  to  say  he'd  be  here — 
but  oh,  I  couldn't  speak  of  it  somehow — all  at  once.  Now 
he's  here!  I  saw  him  turn  into  the  lane!"  And  she  was 
off  before  astonished  Pa  could  ask  a  question. 

Mr.  Austin  Grey  coming  to  see  him!  He  looked  out, 
bewildered ;  and  Ma,  leaning  over  his  shoulder,  saw  the  gen- 
tleman advancing  through  the  lights  and  shadows,  and  be- 
gan to  dust  a  spotless  chair  with  the  garment  she  was  mak- 
ing, and  set  the  Bible  more  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the 
table.  When  he  knocked  at  the  door,  they  gave  him  a 
solemn  and  tremulous  welcome.  Such  an  event  as  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Grey  in  their  little  cottage  was  hardly 
inferior  to  the  dropping  in  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  for  at  so  lofty  a  height  degrees  make  little  differ- 
ence. Of  course  social  superiority  was  of  no  consequence 
to  them  in  theory,  for  they  were  good  Americans,  but  in 
practice  it  was  quite  another  affair.  When  he  said  directly 
that  he  came  to  see  if  he  could  arrange  to  help  their  little 
girl  by  sending  her  to  the  seminary,  they  put  out  involun- 
tary hands  toward  each  other  to  brace  against  the  shock 
of  surprise.  Little  by  little,  however,  they  settled  down 

20 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  21 

to  an  agitated  contemplation  of  this  marvel.  Nothing 
ever  happened  to  Bertha  as  it  did  to  other  folks,  Ma  al- 
ways said,  and  the  blood  began  to  glow  in  her  withered 
cheeks  as  she  saw  herself  so  strikingly  verified.  Who  could 
have  dreamed  of  this  star  falling  out  of  the  sky  and  lodg- 
ing gently  in  the  child's  lap?  The  tears  came  into  Pa's 
wistful  eyes :  he  knew  what  it  would  mean  to  little  Bertie ; 
and  Ma  opened  and  shut  her  thin  lips  several  times  with- 
out speaking. 

Mr.  Grey  was  deeply  touched  by  their  emotion.  He  had 
learned  Bertha's  history  so  far  as  it  was  known  in  the 
village,  and  had  heard  of  the  old  folks'  devotion  to  the 
child,  and  he  tried  now  to  set  them  more  at  ease  by  making 
the  situation  clear  to  them. 

"  You  see,  all  I  mean  is  that  I  should  like  to  give  Bertha 
the  opportunity  to  get  what  she  craves  and  what  she  ought 
to  have — a  good  education.  She  has  an  unusually  clever 
brain;  it  would  be  a  misfortune  not  to  cultivate  it.  I  don't 
ask  you  to  decide  at  once;  take  time  to  think  it  over;  I'll 
come  again  in  a  day  or  two  and  see  what  you  have  to  say." 

When  he  left,  they  devoted  their  whole  thought  to  the 
great  question,  hardly  cooking  a  meal,  or  doing  a  stroke 
of  work,  until  they  had  made  up  their  minds.  The  main 
quandary  was,  would  it  be  best  for  the  child  to  be  educated 
so  far  above  her  station?  Wouldn't  it  put  more  tempta- 
tions in  her  way,  and  make  her  more  restless?  On  the 
other  hand,  it  was  an  opportunity  for  everything  she 
wanted,  an  opportunity  to  make  her  contented  perhaps; 
it  hurt  Pa  to  see  her  so  dissatisfied.  Moreover,  they  had 
the  background  of  knowledge  that  circumstances  are  elastic 
in  a  free  land:  what  was  to  hinder  Bertha  from  rising, 
rising,  far  beyond  their  ken?  The  pang  that  came  with 
this  thought  spurred  them  on  to  acceptance,  lest  they 


22  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

should  be  selfish  in  refusal.  No  pride  stood  in  their  way 
to  prevent  taking  so  much  for  their  child  from  a  stranger. 
He  had,  and  they  had  not,  and  he  offered  as  simply  as  they 
took.  In  the  end  they  worked  and  prayed  themselves  up  to 
the  decision  to  pass  over  the  child's  future  to.  the  care  of 
this  man,  well  known  to  them  by  reputation  at  least. 

"Yes,"  said  Pa,  the  spokesman  of  the  pair  who  seldom 
failed  to  pull  together,  "we  have  decided  you  are  right. 
Bertie  shall  have  her  chance.  Housework  and  sewing  are 
'gainst  nature  with  her,  but  she's  always  been  smart  at  her 
books." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Grey  heartily,  "yet  she  may 
need  some  coaching  during  the  summer  to  pass  the  ex- 
aminations." 

Pa  and  Ma  listened  helpless,  knowing  naught  of  such 
details.  They  made  a  few  careful  conditions  however: 

"  She  must  come  back  every  second  Friday  and  stay  with 
us  over  Sunday,"  urged  Ma,  "and  Pa  must  be  free  to  see 
her  whenever  he  likes." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Grey,  surprised  at 
this  phase.  "I  don't  mean  to  take  her  from  you  the  least 
bit  in  the  world,  but  simply  to  add  to  what  you  do  for  her. 
You  are  her  parents;  at  most  I  can  be  only  a  sort  of 
guardian." 

Pa  shook  his  head  with  a  slight,  pathetic  smile;  so  far 
as  he  was  concerned,  it  was  giving  up  the  child. 

Mr.  Grey  took  leave  of  them  in  thorough  accord.  He 
realized  their  genuine  quality,  and  it  went  far  toward  ex- 
plaining Bertha  that  she  should  have  had  such  influences 
about  her  since  she  was  three. 

Part  way  down  the  lane  he  came  across  her,  agog  with 
excitement  and  suspense.  Twenty  times  a  day,  if  not  of  an 
hour,  she  distracted  the  old  people  by  urging  them  to  tell 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  £3 

her  what  they  were  going  to  do?  and  why  on  earth  didn't 
they  decide?  Now,  when  Mr.  Grey  met  her,  her  cheeks 
were  glowing  and  her  eyes  intense  as  she  stammered: 

"Is  it— is  it " 

"Is  it  settled?  Yes,  my  dear.  You  are  to  go  to  the 
seminary  in  the  fall;  that  is,  if  you  can  pass  the  examina- 
tions." 

She  gave  a  gasp  of  joy  and  paled,  while  her  heart  beat 
tumultuously.  Now  bliss  was  hers;  now  time  wag  going 
to  begin  anew !  Then  her  practical  mind  steadied  her. 

"What  shall  I  have  to  know?  I  don't  care  what  it  is, 
I'll  learn  it  before  that." 

"Certainly  you  will,  but  I  haven't  found  out  yet  myself. 
I  shall  to-morrow.  Be  a  good  girl,  now,  my  little  ward." 

She  took  his  hand  between  both  of  hers,  looking  up  at 
him  with  lustrous  eyes,  dark  with  emotion;  then  she 
dropped  her  face  for  a  moment  on  the  hand  she  held  and 
he  felt  the  pressure  of  young  lips,  before  she  dashed  away 
and  blew  quickly  out  of  sight. 

"So  grateful  for  such  a  trifle!"  he  murmured  as  he 
walked  on,  touched  to  the  heart,  resolving  that  she  should 
have  a  friend  in  him  so  long  as  he  lived. 

He  left  the  village  soon  after  this,  and  did  not  return 
until  she  had  been  long  a  pupil  of  the  unattainable  semi- 
nary; but  the  tutor  he  had  provided  told  him  of  her  fine 
success  in  passing  the  examinations,  and  he  wrote  at  once 
congratulating  her,  and  asked  her  to  tell  him  in  a  month 
or  two  how  she  liked  it. 

The  reply  might  have  been  written  on  her  knees.  Not 
that  she  had  no  faults  to  find,  but  she  had  a  new  incentive, 
a  mighty  stimulus  that  spurred  her  to  redoubled  exertions. 
Free  use  of  the  pass-key  into  the  world's  treasury  of  knowl- 
edge was  more  than  ever  her  ambition,  only  now  her  long- 


24  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

ing  throbbed  to  finer  issues:  she  wanted  to  be  what  Mr. 
Grey  would  like. 

This  thought  led  her  as  a  star  through  all  the  harsh 
and  stormy  experiences  of  the  first  year ;  a  period  of  bitter 
disappointment  and  one  full  of  mortification.  Everything 
was  interpreted  against  her  quite  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Some  would  have  been  crushed  by  the  heavy  weights  put 
upon  her,  but  it  worked  differently  in  her  case:  since  they 
were  intolerable  she  threw  them  off. 

"Of  course  I'm  ambitious!"  she  proclaimed  defiantly 
when  the  accusation  was  made.  "The  best  is  what  I'm 
after,  and  what  I  mean  to  get.  The  rest  of  you  may  be 
content  with  enduring,  or  putting  up  with  second  or  third 
best ;  I'm  not ;  that's  flat.  I  want  the  lest,  and  I'm  going 
to  have  it,  too!" 

Faith  in  the  power  of  will  had  become  more  indomitable 
than  ever;  it  grew  with  what  it  fed  upon.  The  world's 
hand  was  against  her  whenever  she  came  in  contact  with 
it  until  she  conquered  by  sheer  force;  or,  like  a  snake- 
charmer,  met  fanged  and  poisoned  prejudice  with  the  spell 
of  power,  subduing  it  to  her  will.  Each  time  she  put  her 
sovereignty  to  the  test,  there  was  the  exhilaration  of  doubt 
— Shall  I  succeed  now? — and  each  time  that  she  did,  she 
tasted  afresh  the  intoxicating  draught  of  the  conqueror 
which  brings  contempt  for  the  victims. 

It  was  a  wholesome  check  upon  this  feeling  that  she  had 
to  do  some  of  the  work  of  the  establishment,  according  to 
Mr.  Grey's  plan;  a  precaution  he  had  taken  to  keep  taut 
her  sense  of  independence,  and  also  to  teach  her  how  to 
turn  time  and  skill  into  means  toward  pome  desired  end. 
When  she  wanted  a  curtain,  or  a  fringed  bureau-cover  for 
her  tiny  bedroom,  she  had  to  devote  part  of  her  Saturdays 
to  sewing,  which  she  abhorred.  This  led  her  to  value  the 


25 

articles,  and  also  proved  that  she  could  earn  as  well  as  cost. 
The  two  hundred  dollars  was  writ  much  smaller  now  to 
her  mental  vision. 

Nevertheless,  what  had  been  joy  in  the  forecast  turned 
to  ashes  in  the  handling,  except  that  she  got  fuel  for  the 
flame  of  her  desire  to  know;  and  life  at  the  seminary  set- 
tled down  into  grim  perseverance  at  her  studies,  checkered 
by  occasional  raids  into  the  camp  of  the  enemy,  whence 
she  would  return  with  one  or  another  soldier  vowed  to  her 
banner,  captives  of  what  was  coming  to  be  more  and  more 
a  captivating  personality. 

The  fortnightly  visit  to  Pa  and  Ma  was  her  one  relief 
from  routine,  and  it  was  their  happiness.  She  descended 
into  the  poor  little  cottage  like  a  burst  of  sunshine;  they 
lived  through  all  the  hibernating  days  of  her  absence  on 
the  life  she  brought  when  she  came;  and  she  was  perfectly 
content  for  the  time  to  be  just  their  little  girl,  to  sit  bask- 
ing on  the  hearth  at  Pa's  feet,  and  watch  Ma  at  her  end- 
less tasks,  which  she  seldom  offered  to  share,  and  which 
now  even  Ma  never  required  her  to  assume.  The  girl 
was  catching  some  gleam  of  the  precious  treasure  there  was 
for  her  in  their  affectionate,  unselfish  interest — not  for 
what  she  could  do,  what  she  could  recite,  what  she  could 
show  off,  but  for  what  she  was,  because  they  loved  her. 

Mr.  Grey,  too,  she  relied  on  in  the  same  way,  not  think- 
ing it  strange  that  he  should  care  for  her.  but  taking  his 
goodness  in  simplicity,  as  she  took  sunshine,  and  water, 
and  the  green  earth,  and  the  joy  of  living.  She  never 
failed  to  go  twice  a  month  to  the  spot  where  she  had  met 
him,  be  it  in  rain,  snow,  ice,  or  bright  weather,  and  he 
was  constantly  in  her  mind  as  a  sort  of  demi-god,  all- 
potent  and  to  be  adored. 

He  dropped  in  now  and  then  from  the  outer  world,  tak- 


2fl  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

ing  much  interest  in  his  ward.  She  seemed  to  him  no  nine- 
teenth century  girl,  but  one  after  the  manner  of  the  early 
ages,  when  the  earth  was  young,  and  humanity  was  fresh, 
and  E.den's  gates  were  still  ajar.  She  never  fretted  him 
by  restless  movements  without  an  end;  either  vigorous 
action  occupied  her,  or  equally  vital  repose,  a  condition 
curiously  satisfying.  Many  otherwise  sad  hours  did  he 
while  away  imagining  her  future.  If  fate  were  only  kind 
enough  to  produce  a  good  man,  willing  to  marry  such  a, 
girl,  and  whom  she  would  not  come  to  depise — To  keep  her 
safe  by  tucking  her  away  in  some  corner  until  this  happy 
event  should  arrive,  was  his  only  idea.  Sensuous,  sensitive, 
passionate,  conscious  of  power;  already  attractive  beyond 
most,  and  growing  to  be  beautiful — what  an  array  of 
charms !  but  each  one  a  separate  danger.  His  control,  such 
as  it  was,  could  be  only  evanescent.  She  was  docile  now, 
but  presently  some  one  would  come  whom  she  would  love, 
and  then — exeunt  all  the  rest ! 

He  did  everything  he  could  think  of  meanwhile  to 
strengthen  her  mind,  thus  hoping  to  offset  a  certain 
lawless  tendency  by  emphasis  on  the  law-abiding  qualities. 
He  seized  the  best  way  in  her  case  by  pointing  out  the 
vulgarity  of  not  conforming  to  the  customs  humanity  has 
learned  by  wide  experience  to  be  best. 

"Morals  are  like  good  breeding:  they  are  the  manners 
of  the  deeper  things  in  social  life,"  he  told  her  one  day. 
"You  learn  politeness  and  courtesy  by  adopting  the  stand- 
ard of  the  world's  rules  in  such  matters;  and  in  just  the 
same  way  you  grow  into  true  womanhood,  and  keep  your- 
self upright  and  undefiled,  by  adopting  the  world's  rules  in 
regard  to  what  is  considered  noble,  and  honest,  and  pure, 
and  of  good  report.  Try  to  bear  this  in  mind,  Bertha,  and 
act  on  it.  There  are  some  things,  to  be  sure,  that  the  world 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  2? 

doesn't  know  yet — that  is  where  the  chance  for  reformers 
comes  in — but  you  will  be  wiser  not  to  think  of  possible 
exceptions  until  you  have  mastered  the  rule."  And  these 
things  sunk  into  the  girl's  mind,  making  a  deep  impres- 
sion. To  do  something  he  would  dislike  became  her  under- 
standing of  sin ;  to  strive  to  fulfil  his  ideal  was  her  loftiest 
conception  of  virtue. 

There  is  no  denying  that  the  leaning  of  such  an  ardent 
young  soul  against  his,  the  charm  of  virgin  soil  in  it, 
touched  Mr.  Grey  at  times  with  a  suggestion  of  magic  pos- 
sibilities. But  he  instantly  repudiated  the  thought,  which 
left  him  with  a  sense  of  keen  humiliation.  He  was  a  man 
of  singular  probity  and  cleanliness,  and  having  such  a  wife 
as  he  had  (for  death  only  set  a  distance  between  them), 
he  was  purified  to  a  rare  degree.  To  be  untrue  to  his  wife 
was  really  impossible  to  him;  it  never  came  as  a  tempta- 
tion, in  fact,  except  in  the  stealthy  underground  sense  of 
the  silent  offering  of  circumstance  which  he  ignored. 

He  had  promised  to  be  present  at  Bertha's  graduation, 
but  he  did  not  come,  and  she  was  disappointed  beyond  all 
reason.  She  took  the  first  place  by  incontestable  superior- 
ity, but  the  day's  many  honors  lacked  relish  since  she 
missed  what  she  wanted  most.  Yet  it  was  a  day  of  tri- 
umph, none  the  less  because  some  of  the  teachers  who 
could  not  get  along  with  her  ached  to  suppress  her;  but 
there  was  hearty  admiration  as  well  as  much  unwilling 
tribute  accorded  her  when  she  read  the  valedictory.  She 
had  written  it  with  the  thought  of  how  each  syllable  would 
sound  to  Mr.  Grey — and  he  heard  none  of  them! 

But  she  threw  off  the  sob  that  clutched  at  her  throat 
and  gave  a  defiant  toss  of  her  head.  If  he  didn't  care,  let 
him  stay  away !  Here  were  people  who  couldn't  help  car- 
ing, for  she  read  in  the  faces  before  her  a  rapt  attention 


28  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

that  soothed  her  wounded  pride.  In  fact,  the  appearance 
she  made  riveted  every  eye.  Despite  the  ill-cut  and  scanty 
white  dress  Ma  had  made  with  tearful  devotion,  the  girl 
looked  superb  as  she  stood  there  with  her  well-developed 
frame,  long,  lithe  limhs,  and  symmetrical  head  crowned 
with  coils  of  golden-brown  hair.  Its  wavy  outlines  set  off 
the  dazzling  complexion,  the  passionate  lips,  and  scintillat- 
ing eyes,  as  leaves  do  a  flower.  But  had  she  possessed  not 
one  of  these  beauties  she  would  still  have  enchanted  her 
beholders,  for  she  impersonated  life — life  for  which  man 
pants;  more  life  and  fuller  than  was  to  be  found  in  any 
such  degree  elsewhere.  She  was  radiant  with  it ;  it  startled 
in  her  glance,  and  thrilled  in  her  voice,  until  she  seemed  to 
crowd  the  air.  There  were  those  thus  influenced  who 
wanted  to  throw  up  a  window  to  get  an  independent 
breath ;  but  most  people  surrendered  to  what  aroused  them 
from  sloth,  and  were  vitalized  for  the  moment  by  the  surge 
of  life  emanating  from  her. 

Thus  she  reached  the  girl's  gateway  into  the  world.  She 
had  come  up  to  it  with  a  flourish  of  trumpets,  in  spite 
of  her  disadvantage  among  these  girls  who  -had  honest 
names  as  a  birthright;  but  a  blank  wall  barred  her  passage 
just  outside  the  gate;  she  stepped  into  an  impasse  whose 
smooth  walls  towered  around  her  without  a  crack  to  peer 
through,  or  a  cranny  to  serve  as  a  foothold.  Pa  and  Ma 
were  present  in  her  hour  of  triumph,  awestruck  by  her 
splendor,  by  her  accomplishments,  and  the  praise  they 
heard;  could  this  be  their  little  girl?  Yes,  she  would  al- 
ways be  that,  thank  God ;  they  had  come  to  trust  her  now. 
She  was  glad  in  their  gladness,  and  yet  she  felt,  with  them, 
that  they  were  a  part  of  the  life  behind  her,  not  before. 
They  represented  the  home  from  which  she  would  sally 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  29 

forth  to  conquer  the  world;  only,  how  could  she  sally 
through  that  impassable  wall? 

Nothing  was  clear  in  her  mind  for  the  next  step,  because 
she  had  leaned  on  the  idea  that  Mr.  Grey  would  provide. 
Like  other  girls,  she  expected  something  would  happen 
when  she  should  leave  the  seminary.  Might  not  the  opaline 
veil  of  the  future  roll  away  and  disclose  something  won- 
derful, something  unknown,  and  yet  half -guessed  ?  But 
her  dreams  had  come  to  naught;  at  this  critical  juncture 
Mr.  Grey  failed  her.  She  hadn't  the  least  idea  why; 
nobody  had  heard  from  him  since  February  and  here  it 
was  June ;  could  he  be  ill,  dead  ?  Impossible ;  life  was  too 
actual  in  her  for  the  notion  of  death  to  convey  a  meaning. 

The  truth  is,  it  was  the  year  1861,  a  date  significant 
forever  to  Americans;  but  around  this  little  far-in  town, 
the  tide  of  patriotism  and  woe  had  hardly  begun  to  rise. 
Its  balancing  motion  passed  almost  unnoticed  by  school- 
girls; that  might  be  just  the  feel  of  life. 

She  returned  home  with  Pa  and  Ma  to  the  little  cottage 
that  had  never  seemed  so  poverty-stricken  and  inadequate 
before.  It  was  warm  with  love,  but  the  emotional  had 
long  ceased  to  suffice  her.  The  thirst  of  her  intellect  for 
occupation,  of  her  being  for  life,  was  like  an  anguish.  So 
far  she  had  lived  in  the  frame  others  had  set  around  her, 
as  most  women  do  to  the  grave;  now  she  was  suddenly 
thrown  on  her  feet  with  a  shock :  that  he  should  have  for- 
gotten her! 

Two  days  later  she  was  leaning  on  a  high-barred  fence, 
without  motive  sufficient  to  climb  it,  when  she  caught  sight 
far  down  the  road  of  the  Fernside  horses  and  a  carriage 
approaching  rapidly.  On  the  instant  she  was  over  the  fence 
and  running  toward  them.  She  would  hail  old  Pete,  and 
learn  if  there  were  any  news;  there  must  be  something  in 


30  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

the  wind  or  he  wouldn't  travel  so  fast.  Then  she  saw  Mr. 
Grey  inside,  and  her  heart  bounded  toward  him,  but  her 
pride  for  the  first  time  pulled  her  back.  She  stopped  run- 
ning and  quieted  into  a  slow  walk.  Why  should  she  hurry 
to  meet  him,  when  he  came  so  tardily? 

But  he  had  see  her  also,  and  sprung  out  to  greet  her. 
How  good  it  was  to  see  again  the  well-dressed  figure  that 
she  considered  the  perfection  of  masculine  form,  and  the 
fine  aristocratic  face  with  its  cultured  expression,  and  the 
blue  eyes  that  had  always  shone  kindly  on  her!  How 
could  she  maintain  her  pride  against  him? 

"My  dear  Bertha!"  he  exclaimed,  taking  both  her  half- 
reluctant  hands.  "I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you  first  of  all. 
I  feared  you  would  never  forgive  me  for  not  being  here  at 
your  Commencement ;  but  you  had  my  letter,  and  the  box 
of  flowers?" 

"I  have  had  nothing  from  you  since  January,"  she  an- 
swered with  a  wounded  air. 

He  looked  amazed,  distressed.  "No  letter,  and  no  flow- 
ers either?  What  a  brute  you  must  have  thought  me!" 
He  tucked  her  arm  under  his  as  if  to  secure  her,  and 
turned  to  the  driver.  "Go  home,  Pete,  and  look  after  my 
traps;  I'll  be  there  presently.  Now  come;  let  us  take  the 
path  through  the  woods,  and  talk  it  all  out." 

She  acquiesced  gladly,  her  pride  melted  quite  away  by 
his  genial  presence.  She  pressed  his  arm  with  a  delighted 
squeeze  as  they  entered  the  by-path. 

"It  is  so  good  to  have  you  back  again!  I  thought  you 
had  forgotten  I  existed,"  she  said  with  a  little  half-derisive 
pout. 

"No,  no,  my  girl;  there  is  no  possibility  of  that."  He 
looked  affectionately  at  her  fair  face,  which  was  now  al- 
most on  a  level  with  his,  fresh  lips  half  open,  dark  eyes 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  31 

full  of  dancing  light.  "You  must  never  fancy  that,  what- 
ever happens.  I  want  you  to  count  on  me  as  one  of  the 
steady  factors  in  your  life,  always,  unto  the  end  of  the 
world."  His  tone  startled  her,  and  she  noticed,  as  his  face 
settled  back  from  the  surprised  pleasure  of  meeting  her, 
that  he  looked  tired  and  careworn. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  said  quickly,  with  an  appre- 
hensive clutch  at  her  heart.  "What  is  going  to  happen?" 

"Ah,  if  we  only  knew,  any  of  us!"  he  replied  with  an 
anxious  sigh.  "But  you  shall  hear  about  all  that  pres- 
ently ;  I  have  been  fearfully  busy,  hardly  had  time  to  sleep 
or  eat ;  but  now  I  want  to  hear  about  yourself.  You  took 
honors?  You  came  out  with  colors  flying  and  a  salvo  of 
artillery  ?"  His  face  sobered  instantly  at  the  thoughts  sug- 
gested by  his  military  simile. 

"I  took  the  honors,  yes.  It  didn't  amount  to  much;  you 
were  not  there." 

"Nonsense !  It  amounted  to  a  great  deal.  I  thought  of 
you  often  that  day,  in  spite  of  everything,  and  pictured 
you  wearing  some  of  my  flowers.  And  they  didn't  come? 
That's  a  shame.  But,  my  dear  girl,  you  are  not  to  despise 
what  you  have  gained  by  honest,  hard  work.  You  have 
accomplished  wonders,  and  if  you  are  not  proud  of  your- 
self, I  am  extremely  proud  of  my  ward." 

This  was  the  praise  she  had  craved,  but  now  that  it 
came  it  robbed  her  of  speech.  She  hung  her  head,  while 
the  tears  filled  her  eyes,  and  she  pressed  his  arm  trem- 
ulously. He  withdrew  it  to  throw  it  around  her.  There 
was  a  sense  of  last  moments  in  his  mind  that  made  a  little 
effusion  seem  pardonable. 

"You  dear  child!  Did  you  really  care  so  much?  I'm 
very  sorry  I  couldn't  be  here.  You  did  splendidly,  as 


82  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

I  always  knew  you  would,  and  I  could  hear  the  applause 
away  off  in  New  York." 

But  no  flattery  availed  now;  the  flood-gates  were  open. 
He  had  not  kissed  her  even  as  a  child,  and  the  unwonted 
caress  loosened  her  self-control  so  that  she  threw  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  wept  passionately,  not  for  grief  nor 
joy,  but  simply  because  she  couldn't  help  it.  He  soothed 
her  as  best  he  could,  and  would  not  rebuff  her,  though  he 
was  himself  considerably  shaken,  until  the  summer  storm 
had  spent  itself,  and  she  subsided,  trembling,  at  the  foot 
of  their  tree. 

Then  he  began  to  explain,  somewhat  nervously  at  first, 
but  presently  with  his  patriotism  quenching  other  emo- 
tions, how  he  had  been  detained  by  the  necessities  of  the 
government,  how  everything  was  topsy-turvy  and  needed 
organization,  and  how  every  man's  strength,  and  time,  and 
thought  must  be  given  to  the  utmost. 

She  listened,  but  for  the  first  time  what  was  of  vital 
interest  to  him  that  he  tried  to  share  with  her,  did  not 
stir  her.  She  felt  chilled  and  alone.  It  was  not  the  com- 
munication she  had  subconsciously  expected;  it  was  disap- 
pointing; it  was  a  question  of  principles,  not  personalities, 
and  the  personal  at  this  moment  excluded  all  else. 

Feeling  the  lack  of  response,  he  dropped  his  side  pres- 
ently and  took  up  hers.  What  was  she  going  to  do  ?  What 
aim  had  she  now?  She  shook  her  head  in  dejection. 

"None?"  he  questioned  in  surprise.  "What  has  become 
of  your  ideals,  child?  I  expected  you  would  have  a  fine 
scheme  all  laid  out  in  black  and  white,  and  I've  been  won- 
dering what  it  was.  Come,  you  must  have  thought  of  some- 
thing." 

He  looked  at  her  searchingly,  and  a  sudden  blush  burned 
her  cheeks ;  it  hurried  her  into  speech. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  33 

"I  thought  of  teaching — of  going  to  Buffalo " 

"Go  to  a  city,  and  alone?  No,  no,  my  dear,  that 
wouldn't  do  at  all.  Why,  in  town,  women  by  the  hundreds 
are  already  seeking  work,  seeking  food  for  themselves  and 
their  little  ones.  It  is  fiercely  hard;  you  mustn't  go  among 
them.  You  might  teach,  but  it  must  be  where  you  are 
known  and  can  be  protected;  if  you  think  that  is  what  you 
would  like  best" 

("Best!") 

"I  will  see  what  can  be  done.  How  does  the  writ- 
ing come  on?"  For  she  had  made  some  ambitious  efforts, 
and  now  she  told  him  that  two  of  her  poems  had  been  ac- 
cepted by  the  Buffalo  News,  and  paid  for,  actually  two 
dollars ! 

"Brava!  brava!  that's  splendid!  Why  didn't  you  send 
them  to  me  ?  But  let's  have  them  now ;  I'm  sure  you  know 
them  by  heart." 

She  did,  and  she  repeated  them,  and  others,  for  a  happy 
half-hour  that  she  dreamed  about  often  thereafter.  He 
listened  with  his  mind  as  well  as  his  ears;  admired,  criti- 
cized, suggested,  but  above  all,  believed  in  her  faculty,  and 
that  she  would  cultivate  it  for  the  best. 

"You  must  take  to  war  songs  presently,"  he  said,  as 
his  mind  reverted  to  its  preoccupying  thought.  "Write  on 
liberty;  write  marches  for  the  host  that  comes  to  free. 
That  is  bound  to  be  the  outcome.  It  is  a  question  whether 
all  shall  be  slaves  and  slave-drivers,  or  all  shall  be  free; 
no  compromise  is  possible." 

But  Bertha  had  not  wakened  to  patriotism  yet ;  she  bore 
a  grudge  against  the  country  that  kept  Mr.  Grey  from 
her.  She  thought  of  the  war  only  as  something  happening 
afar  off,  as  in  Asia  or  Africa;  now  it  impinged  upon  her 
life,  and  she  resented  the  intrusion. 


34 

Mr.  Grey's  visit  was  short,  but  he  made  it  sure  in  regard 
to  Bertha's  affairs;  she  must  be  provided  for  against  any 
contingency.  She  still  pleaded  for  the  city,  but  he  shook 
his  head.  He  was  elated  when  he  found  there  was  a 
vacancy  at  the  seminary,  and  that  they  would  let  her  fill 
it;  there  surely  she  would  be  safe.  She  acceded  to  the 
plan  without  enthusiasm.  She  knew  it  all  at  the  seminary ; 
it  was  but  a  trifling  difference  whether  she  were  pupil  or 
teacher.  Her  dreams  had  been  of  a  glittering  sky  and  the 
light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land. 

He  saw  her  dsappointment,  for  she  was  as  transparent 
as  clear  water,  and  he  exerted  himself  to  make  also  an 
opening  for  her  imagination.  He  carried  some  of  her 
verses  to  New  York  and  took  time  to  induce  one  of  the 
lesser  editors  of  a  daily  paper  to  look  with  a  favorable  eye 
on  what  Bertha  might  send  him.  Then  the  whirlpool  that 
centered  in  every  prominent  man  at  that  tremendous  time 
engulfed  him,  and  she  heard  no  more. 


CHAPTER  IV 

\ 

NOT  until  November  did  he  come  again.  Then,  without 
warning,  the  day  before  Thanksgiving,  he  called  for  her  at 
the  seminary,  causing  the  fog  of  life  there  to  lift  suddenly 
and  disclose  the  shimmer  of  the  opaline  veil.  She  was 
swift  in  her  preparations  and  joined  him  where  he  waited 
in  the  buggy,  flicking  the  sod  with  his  whip,  his  face  heav- 
ily shadowed.  It  brightened  at  her  appearance,  however, 
and  she  jumped  in,  a  bit  breathless,  but  the  sense  of  hurry 
quickly  subsided  in  the  delicious  rest  of  being  with  him. 

The  day  was  mild,  almost  balmy,  one  of  those  strange, 
exotic  days  that  sometimes  come  in  the  late  fall,  and 
through  their  unexpected  quality  give  us  pause.  The  heavy 
verdure  of  summer  that  makes  a  gloom  in  the  woods  even 
at  noon,  had  given  place  to  a  golden  tranquillity,  in  which 
all  dark  lines  of  bole  and  bough  were  delicate  as  in  spring- 
time, and  shadows,  unless  like  mellowed  light,  were  rare. 
The  faint  haze  that  softened  vacant  spaces  gave  to  Bertha 
a  delicious  sense  of  mystery ;  nothing  was  stark  and  clear, 
everything  was  promiseful,  enrapturing:  she  told  him  the 
weather  was  in  accord  with  his  taking  her  by  surprise. 

And  he  found  her  in  a  new  mood;  softer,  less  spirited, 
more  alluring;  he  realized  as  he  had  never  done  that  she 
was  no  longer  a  child.  With  the  realization  of  this  came 
a  sudden  sadness.  Poor  girl,  it  was  her  lot  to  face  the 
world,  and  with  what  a  face!  Such  bright  beauty  but 
added  greater  force  to  the  contest  in  her  own  nature  where 

35 


36  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

the  sensuous  and  the  spiritual  must  fight  hard.  The  issue 
was  of  such  tremendous  import  that  he  felt  he  should  seize 
this  opportunity  to  help  the  supremacy  of  the  best;  so,  as 
they  drove  through  the  ripened  landscape,  through  the  hush 
of  consummation  in  which  preparation  lies  hidden  as  the 
seed  in  the  fruit,  he  began  to  talk  to  her  very  seriously. 
She  did  not  catch  his  tone  at  first,  so  wrapped  was  she  in 
the  sweetness  of  sitting  here  beside  him,  looking  out  on 
golden  hopes  and  vistas  dim  in  beauty.  Soon,  however, 
quick  to  respond  to  another's  mood,  especially  to  his,  she 
roused  from  these  vague  impressions.  Moreover,  high  con- 
verse did  not  die  echoless  within  her,  and  she  listened  with 
wide,  attentive  eyes,  a  slight  element  of  fear  mingling  with 
surprise  and  stirred  sensibility. 

"Beware,"  he  was  saying,  "of  doing  anything  you  will 
afterwards  regret.  Use  your  gift  of  imagination  to  picture 
the  consequences  of  what  you  are  going  to  do,  so  as  to 
choose  what  will  bring  you  durable  pleasure.  Hold  your 
ideal  high  above  your  head:  let  it  be  a  lamp  to  show  you 
clearly  which  path  is  best.  Never  mind  if  you  suffer  in 
following  it ;  even  if  its  oil  be  your  heart's  blood,  in  what 
service  can  it  burn  so  well  ?" 

His  tone  was  deep  and  clear,  his  face  full  of  a  com- 
manding earnestness ;  his  eyes,  sunk  deeper  in  their  sockets, 
shone  upon  her  as  a  beacon-light.  Forgotten  was  the  outer 
world,  bathed  in  golden  atmosphere;  forgotten  were  her 
misty  dreams:  all  her  being  was  concentrated  here.  He 
was  her  lamp;  he  was  the  ideal  she  would  follow;  his  was 
the  service  in  which  it  would  be  an  ecstasy  to  pour  out  her 
heart's  blood. 

He  was  looking  at  the  wide  harvested  fields,  and  the 
evergreens  along  the  road  overgrown  with  bitter-sweet 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  37 

berries;  he  did  not  see  her  expression  of  worship,  else  he 
could  hardly  have  gone  on. 

"You  have  much  to  learn,  yon  are  just  entering  life, 
rememher;  you  will  have  much  to  bear,  much  to  conquer. 
You  have  a  tumultuous  nature,  Bertha."  Here  he  glanced 
at  her,  and  the  fervor  of  her  eyes  made  his  breath  halt  a 
moment;  then  he  looked  away  and  commanded  it.  "You 
will  have  to  fight  hard,  but  bear  this  in  mind :  Don't  suc- 
cumb to  anything  you  know  in  calmer  moments  is  wrong. 
Let  the  waves  of  passion,  and  of  anger,  and  of  despair,  roll 
over  you  as  they  must,  but  hold  your  soul  as  you  would 
your  breath  under  water,  and  they  will  presently  roll  away 
and  leave  you — stunned,  drenched,  half-drowned,  maybe, 
but  alive,  and  your  own."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then 
added,  as  he  looked  at  her  with  the  sternness  of  memory 
in  his  face,  "I  know  what  it  is,  Bertha."  She  glanced  up, 
startled:  had  he,  on  those  serene  pinnacles,  ever  known 
what  it  was  to  struggle?  "I  know  what  it  is,"  he  repeated 
slowly;  "I  don't  speak  mere  words;  it  is  my  deepest  ex- 
perience that  speaks." 

She  was  silent,  almost  awed.  He  bent  to  her  level, 
and  wished  to  lift  her  to  his.  She  felt  humbled,  and  yet 
upheld.  Since  he  had  had  temptations,  perhaps  she  too 
could  conquer  them ;  she  would,  for  he  wished  it.  He  was 
her  hero  who  would  kill  the  evil  genii  within  her;  he  was 
an  ideal  to  worship,  a  beloved  human  being  to  adore. 

Too  soon  they  reached  Fernside,  where  the  old  people 
were  at  the  gate  to  welcome  their  darling.  They  had  come 
to  spend  Thanksgiving  at  the  big  house,  which  was  by  this 
time  fairly  familiar  to  them,  for  it  had  been  the  scene  of 
many  similar  reunions.  Bertha  was  ever  the  high  light  of 
the  picture.  She  had  never  been  uncomfortable  amid  these 
fine  surroundings  which  had  at  first  daunted  the  very  souls 


38  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

of  Pa  and  Ma.  But  to  Bertha  the  better  ever  seemed 
native ;  she  walked  as  if  this  were  her  accustomed  air. 

To-night,  partly  as  a  reaction  from  the  solemn  talk  of 
the  drive,  she  bubbled  over  with  mirth,  taking  off  some  of 
the  other  teachers  with  ludicrous  perfection  of  mimicry, 
at  which  the  old  folks  laughed  to  tears,  while  shaking  their 
heads  at  her  impertinence.  She  drifted  about  the  large 
rooms  with  a  blithe  smoothness  that  held  the  eye,  and  satis- 
fied it.  Just  such  should  be  the  gait  of  a  girl.  She  brought 
the  jocund  air  of  spring  into  their  autumnal  lives,  and 
refreshed  them  vitally  with  her  gladness  and  singleness 
of  heart. 

The  quartette  had  a  gay  meat-tea  for  which  Ma  made 
the  incomparable  biscuit,  and  afterwards  they  sat  around 
the  wood  fire,  roasting  chestnuts,  baking  apples,  and  drink- 
ing cider,  while  Mr.  Grey  told  them  of  what  he  had  been 
doing,  what  was  going  on  in  the  centers  of  action,  and 
brought  the  stir  and  current  of  the  world  into  their  se- 
cluded lives.  He  intended  to  raise  a  company  in  the  neigh- 
borhood and  he  asked  the  advice  and  assistance  of  all  three. 
Bertha  easily  took  the  lead ;  she  let  go  her  old  repugnance 
to  the  demands  of  the  nation,  and  entered  into  his  plans 
with  enthusiastic  interest.  She  knew  everybody,  and  she 
knew  how  each  one  could  be  best  approached;  he  was 
amazed  at  her  insight  and  surety  of  judgment.  He  was 
delighted  also  that  she  had  wakened  to  the  situation  at 
last,  for  he  had  thought  her  a  little  obtuse  in  this  direction. 

The  few  holidays  passed  in  a  glow  of  good  work,  of 
patriotic  ardor.  She  listened  to  his  stirring  appeals,  and 
almost  wished  she  were  a  man  that  she  might  join  the 
company.  She  heard  his  sad  stories  of  suffering  and  pri- 
vation and  unnursed  deaths,  and  implored  him  to  let  her 
become  a  nurse;  but  he  scouted  the  idea.  Later  on,  per- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  39 

haps,  when  she  was  older,  and  the  available  force  of  better- 
fitted  women  had  been  used;  a  grim  outlook,  but  he  was 
one  of  the  few  who  foresaw  from  the  first  a  prolonged 
struggle. 

She  had  to  go  back  to  school  for  Monday,  and  he  went 
over  the  next  day  to  say  good-bye,  bringing  her  fruits  and 
candies. 

"I  can't  get  over  thinking  you  are  still  a  child,"  he  said 
smiling,  as  she  eagerly  undid  the  parcels. 

"I  hope  you  won't,"  she  answered,  laughing.  She  sat 
beside  the  open  stove  and  munched  the  sweets  like  a  child 
indeed.  Her  dark-red  gown  emphasized  the  beauty  of  her 
fairness.  It  was  like  the  trailing  arbutus,  he  thought,  and 
she  had  grown  to  flower  and  fragrance  under  such  unto- 
ward circumstances  as  it  softly  conquers.  Weight  of  pine 
needles  and  chill  of  snow  had  been  against  her,  but  she 
had  pushed  her  indomitable  way  through  them  by  sheer 
force  of  life,  and  here  she  was,  a  joy  to  contemplate. 

"You  are  well  content  in  this  position,"  he  said,  more  in 
the  tone  of  affirmation  than  of  question,  for  she  looked 
the  picture  of  happy  repose,  as  she  sat  relaxed  in  the  high- 
backed  rocking-chair ;  it  charmed  the  tired  man.  She  had 
a  way  of  making  ordinary  things  conform  to  a  luxurious 
sense  in  her;  while  she  occupied  a  seat  it  seemed  fit  for 
Cleopatra,  when  she  left  it,  one  was  astonished  at  its  stiff 
lines  and  lack  of  comfort. 

She  nodded  carelessly,  still  gazing  into  the  fire  with  a 
smiling  face.  There  was  no  use  bothering  about  dullness 
while  he  was  there:  she  was  happy  now. 

"I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  he  said,  after  a  little  pause,  and 
his  voice  had  changed.  "I  should  be  sorry  to  leave  you 
dissatisfied." 


40  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

At  his  tone  her  glance  darted  to  his  face,  which  had 
sobered,  and  the  candy  fell  into  her  lap. 

"It  would  be  a  trial  to  me  to  go  away  and  think  of  you 
as  unhappy,"  he  pursued,  a  little  uneasy  under  her  eyes 
which  he  did  not  meet.  "You  know  I  am  going  away, 
Bertha," 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded,  sitting  upright, 
and  grasping  the  arms  of  her  chair.  He  was  always  going 
away;  why  should  he  announce  this  departure  in  such  a 
frightening  fashion?  "You  are  not  going  farther  than 
usual,  or  for  a  longer  time,  are  you?"  she  insisted. 

"Child,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "do  you  suppose  I  could 
enlist  all  these  men,  and  stay  behind  myself,  when" 

But  she  would  not  let  him  continue.  "You  are  going 
into  the  army!"  she  cried,  horror-struck.  "0,  dear  Mr. 
Grey!  don't  go,  don't  go !  I  implore  you." 

She  threw  herself  forward  out  of  the  chair  on  to  her 
knees  beside  him,  and  now  buried  her  face  in  his  sleeve, 
sobbing.  For  Mr.  Grey  to  go  into  battle !  her  Mr.  Grey 
to  go  through  all  those  dreadful  things  he  had  told  her 
about,  to  be  wounded,  to  suffer  alone — 0,  it  was  incredible, 
unendurable !  He  touched  her  hair  with  his  hand  once  or 
twice,  and  said:  "Poor  child!"  with  the  same  tone  of 
commiseration  he  had  used  when  she  had  been  overcome 
by  the  vexations  of  her  school  life. 

The  touch,  the  tone,  the  words,  but  more  than  all  the 
spirit  underneath,  which  she  was  keen  to  feel,  checked 
her  sobs.  She  drew  away,  and  rising,  went  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room.  She  came  back  presently,  having  quelled 
her  emotion  for  the  nonce. 

"Thaf  s  my  brave  girl,"  said  he.  "I  knew  it  would  take 
you  but  a  few  minutes  to  realize  that  it  is  no  more  for  me 
to  go  than  for  another." 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  41 

She  shook  her  head,  but  she  would  not  voice  her  feelings ; 
She  knew  he  would  despise  them  and  her:  she  would  try 
to  get  around  him  on  some  other  tack. 

"If  you  ever  meant  to  go,  how  does  it  happen  you  haven't 
gone  before  ?"  she  asked  at  length. 

"Ah,  that  is  what  I've  wondered,  too,"  he  replied  with 
some  self-scorn,  hut  his  attitude  to  her  immediately 
changed.  He  need  not  try  further  to  convince  her  of  his 
duty ;  she  took  sides  with  it  and  reproached  him  for  delay. 
This  was  far  from  her  thoughts,  hut  she  listened  eagerly 
as  he  explained;  winding  up  with,  "And  I  have  less  to 
sacrifice  than  most  men;  my  parents,  my  wife,  my  child, 
all  are  dead.  It  is  little  I  give,  only  myself,  but  that  little 
I  give  heartily.  It  will  be  done  soon,  too.  The  regiment 
of  which  they  have  made  me  colonel  marches  on  the  fif- 
teenth." 

Bertha  blanched  to  a  deadly  white.  These  specific  de- 
tails and  concluded  plans  made  her  sickeningly  aware  of 
helplessness.  Grey's  attention  was  not  called  to  her;  he 
believed  her  to  be  in  full  sympathy  with  his  projects  now, 
and  he  gazed  into  the  fire  and  went  on  talking  almost  to 
himself. 

"It  would  be  different  if  my  wife  were  living;  then  it 
would  be  hard,  I  grant.  To  leave  her  to  the  mercy  of  fate, 
to  the  agony  of  possible  loss — yet  how  many  do  that !  But 
she  is  safe  beyond  such  trials,  and  I  thank  God  for  it,"  he 
said  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "It  is  little  indeed  I  give,  for 
if  I  am  killed,  it  means  reunion ;  my  life  has  already  gone 
before." 

His  voice  had  sunk  to  a  low  murmur ;  but  after  a  pause 
he  seemed  suddenly  to  realize  who  was  overhearing  these 
remarks,  and  he  turned  to  Bertha  with  a  quick  deprecatory 


42  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

gesture.  The  room  was  dark  except  for  the  fading  glow  of 
the  coals;  he  could  see  merely  the  outline  of  her  face. 

"I  heg  your  pardon,  dear,"  he  said,  with  some  uneasi- 
ness. "I  forgot  for  the  moment  I  was  not  alone.  It  is  a 
bad  hahit  a  solitary  man  gets  into  sometimes." 

Bertha  did  not  speak,  and  he  went  on. 

"I  want  you  to  know  that  if  anything  does  happen  to 
me,  I  have  left  some  provision  for  you."  She  gave  a 
smothered  exclamation  and  threw  out  her  hand  with  a  ges- 
ture he  took  for  refusal.  "Yes,  yes,  my  child,  you  must 
accept  it.  It  is  not  much,  but  it  will  serve  to  tide  you  over 
some  difficulty.  If  I  live,  I  shall  always  help  you  when 
I  can,  so  if  I  die  it  is  but  right  I  should  do  what  may  be 
of  use  to  you.  Not  that  I  expect  to  die,  Bertha,"  he  added, 
making  an  effort  to  get  out  of  this  gloomy  vein,  and  lean- 
ing forward  to  put  more  wood  on  the  embers.  "They  say 
he  who  is  willing  is  never  hit,  but  I  wanted  to  tell  you  in 
case  of  accident." 

He  turned  to  look  at  her  as  the  fire  leaped  up,  and  he 
was  aghast  at  the  expression  on  her  face :  it  was  pallid  with 
misery,  and  there  was  a  poignancy  to  her  eyes  as  if  she 
were  gazing  on  some  dear,  dead  thing. 

"Why,  Bertha!  I  had  no  idea  you  would  take  it  so 
•hard,"  he  exclaimed,  rising  to  bend  over  her  anxiously.  He 
smoothed  her  elastic  hair  as  she  burst  into  tears,  and  was 
silent  a  few  minutes  while  she  recovered  herself.  "I  can 
see  just  how  it  is,  dear,"  he  said  then.  "You  are  afraid 
for  me,  and  you  think  your  prop  will  be  gone,  but  you 
hardly  need  a  prop  any  longer;  you  have  found  your  feet 
and  can  walk  your  path  securely.  As  for  affectionate  in- 
terest, you  know  you  are  very  dear  to  me.  You  must  write 
often  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself;  before  long  I  shall 
be  back  again,  please  God.  In  any  case,  Bertha,  remember 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  43 

there  is  always  God  to  depend  upon.  Without  him  none 
of  us  could  stand  an  instant." 

But  God  and  religion  were  empty  sounds  to  Bertha. 
They  were  too  far  off  to  have  any  significance.  And  now 
her  friend — her  only  friend  as  she  felt  him  at  that  moment 
— was  going  far  away,  too,  completely  out  of  her  reach. 
Besides,  he  didn't  seem  to  have  the  slightest  idea  of  what  it 
meant  to  her,  and  how  could  she  tell  him?  Moreover,  it 
would  be  of  no  use.  She  was  keenly  aware  of  the  adamant 
in  his  composition;  she  knew  she  might  throw  herself 
against  him  a  thousand  years  and  not  effect  anything — 
except  to  make  him  despise  her.  She  must  control  herself, 
and  let  him  go,  and  then — the  deluge. 

He  was  to  leave  by  the  evening  train,  and  he  had  now 
little  time  to  spare.  He  took  her  hands  and  looked  atten- 
tively into  her  eyes. 

"Kemember,  child,  what  I  told  you  the  other  day.  Don't 
be  rash;  cool  your  feelings  in  your  judgment.  If  you  get 
into  any  perplexity,  consult  Pa  and  Ma;  they  will  have  an 
instinct  for  the  right  where  you  are  concerned.  Now,  good- 
bye, my  dear  little  ward." 

He  drew  her  toward  him ;  she  was  trembling  like  a  leaf. 
She  turned  up  her  face  to  him,  but  he  was  resolved  not  to 
rub  off  the  least  bloom  from  this  fresh  virginal  nature — 
whose  would  be  the  right? — so  he  kissed  her  only  on  the 
forehead,  and  she  felt  as  if  an  icy  touch  had  frostbitten  her 
heart.  She  drew  away  and  he  let  her  go  reluctantly;  he 
could  not  account  for  her  extreme  agitation. 

"Is  there  anything  you  want  me  to  say  or  do  before  I 
go?"  he  asked  in  perplexity,  but  she  only  shook  her  head. 
Her  hands  were  strained  to  her  breast  until  the  finger- 
tips were  purple  in  her  determination  to  control  herself; 
he  should  not  despise  her. 


'44  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"Speak  a  word,  then,"  he  urged.  "I  can't  bear  to  leave 
you  so." 

"God  bless  you,"  she  whispered,  making  a  tremendous 
effort.  "May  he  be  as  good  to  you  as  you  have  been 
to  me." 

"Ah,  my  dear,  I  have  done  very  little,"  he  said,  a  gleam 
of  responsive  gratitude  crossing  his  face.  "You  are  the 
one  that  does.  Now,  once  more,  good-bye." 

He  touched  her  hair  with  his  lips,  and  his  deep-blue 
eyes  very  affectionately  met  hers,  full  of  tumult  and 
anguish.  Then  he  went  away,  closing  the  door  behind  him, 
for  she  could  not  stir,  only  gaze  and  gaze.  She  stared  at 
that  shut  door  until  she  heard  the  gate  close,  and  his  foot- 
steps die  away.  Then,  with  a  low  moan,  she  fell  forward 
on  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  fifteenth  of  December  came  and  passed.  Mr.  Grey 
wrote  Bertha  a  hasty  note  at  the  moment  of  departure 
for  the  front,  and  when  she  received  it,  she  felt  that  all 
was  over.  The  man  who  meant  the  world. to  her  was  gone 
— gone  in  every  sense;  the  clangor  of  war  resounded  too 
noisily  for  any  need  of  hers  to  he  heard,  and  even  did  her 
voice  reach  him,  of  what  avail?  since  his  heart  was  with 
his  wife  in  heaven.  The  hurdle  was  beyond  her  leap,  and 
she  threw  herself,  a  wretched  heap  of  despondency,  in  the 
dust  before  it :  it  mattered  little  what  became  of  her  now. 

But  the  very  intensity  of  this  mood  bred  its  own  reaction. 
The  balance  tipped  to  the  other  scale,  and  she  was  ready 
to  throw  in  any  weight  that  promised  pleasure,  the  readier 
because  she  was*  in  a  reckless  humor. 

Of  course  Christmas  was  to  be  spent  at  home,  but  the 
thought  of  the  cramped  cottage  and  its  poverty  as  the  best 
that  life  offered,  exasperated  her,  and  she  looked  forward 
with  a  mixture  of  dull  distaste  and  resentment  to.  the  drive 
in  a  covered  wagon?  transferred  for  the  winter  to  runners, 
which  was  the  country's  usual  slow  and  plebian  method  of 
conveyance.  Therefore  it  was  with  special  relish  that  she 
accepted  an  invitation  to  drive  over  in  what  she  considered 
proper  style. 

It  came  from  a  man  who  was  brother  to  the  principal, 
and  who  had  been  captivated  by  Bertha.  She  was  a  girl 
to  strike  any  one's  fancy;  and,  on  her  side,  she  was  pricked 

45 


46  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

on  by  the  opportunity  to  test  her  powers,  which  had  all 
the  charm  of  novelty  as  she  was  brought  into  contact  with 
each  new  person;  particularly,  now,  when  the  person  hap- 
pened to  be  a  man.  At  this  age  sex  was  a  puissance  that 
drew  her  as  gravitation  does  the  earth.  It  pulled,  but  her 
independence  resisted,  and  the  play  between  the  two  forces 
gave  her  a  dynamic  quality  that  made  life  electric.  Tom 
Colton  was  the  first  man  Bertha  had  ever  known  she  could 
sway.  She  swayed  him  conspicuously,  and  the  sense  of 
power  in  being  able  to  do  it  intoxicated  her.  Moreover, 
to  prevail  with  another,  and  a  man,  stimulated  her  self- 
esteem.  If  not  Mr.  Grey,  at  least  somebody.  The  wife  of 
the  principal,  whom  Bertha  had  always  disliked  (and  who 
returned  the  feeling  with  interest),  warned  her  harshly 
not  to  flirt,  or  she  would  get  into  trouble,  but  what  spirited 
girl  ever  heeded  such  a  caution?  Certainly  not  Bertha. 
Like  other  girls,  she  set  sail  on  unknown  seas,  with  colors 
flying,  led  forward  from  point  to  point  by  new  enticements, 
knowing  naught  of  what  was  beyond,  only  wondering  how 
far  she  could  wield  authority,  and  proving  it  as  she  went 
with  adventurous  excitement. 

It  was  a  brilliant  winter  day.  There  had  been  sleet  since 
the  last  snowfall,  and  the  trees  were  encased  in  ice,  every 
trunk,  and  branch,  and  twig,  and  blade  of  dried  grass, 
glittering  in  the  frigid  sunlight  as  if  set  with  innumerable 
diamonds — a  perfect  fairy-land.  As  she  came  down  the 
steps,  clad  in  her  deep  red  dress  and  tight-fitting  jacket 
edged  with  fur,  a  turban  pushing  down  the  fluff  of  tawny 
hair  on  her  forehead,  and  resting  on  the  great  burnished 
knot  behind,  Mr.  Colton  found  her  ravishing — the  fit 
queen  of  the  magic  day. 

He  jumped  out  to  assist,  flattering  her  with  a  dozen 
careful  attentions,  covering  her  with  robes,  tucking  them 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  47 

down  closely,  for  it  was  very  cold,  and  letting  his  eyes  feast 
on  her  the  while  in  a  way  that  gratified  and  fluttered  her. 
A  heavily  built  man  about  thirty,  tall  and  broad,  he  was 
very  strong  and  full  of  animal  spirits.  He  had  brown  hair 
and  a  long,  coarse  mustache  that  entirely  hid  his  mouth, 
a  thick  nose,  and  small,  brown  eyes,  now  aglow.  Besides, 
he  was  a  brisk,  jovial,  free-handed  fellow,  good  at  story- 
telling, and  rather  pleasant  in  a  boisterous  way.  He  was 
not  attractive  to  Bertha,  but  neither  did  he  repel,  and  his 
belongings  were  undeniably  attractive.  The  luxurious  cut- 
ter and  prancing  horses,  the  proof  of  plenty,  the  freedom 
from  restrictions,  and,  above  all,  the  play  he  gave  to  her 
sense  of  sovereignty,  charmed  her.  The  whole  affair  was 
a  lively  change  from  habits  destitute  of  variety;  it  gave 
life  a  fillip,  and  she  was  in  a  rebellious  temper  that  lent 
to  pungency  a  fictitious  value.  What  a  contrast  to  the 
shabby  methods  so  hatefully"  familiar,  and  what  allurement 
of  opportunity !  She  settled  back  under  the  warm  buffalo 
robes  with  the  sensation  that  this  was  just  right:  let  the 
play  go  on. 

"Well,  how  does  it  suit  you?"  he  asked,  noting  the  satis- 
faction in  her  face,  as  she  felt  the  swift  movement  over 
crisp  snow,  and  listened  to  the  merry  bells.  The  horses 
settled  into  a  steady  gait  and  he  could  devote  more  atten- 
tion to  his  bewitching  companion.  He  leaned  across  to 
tuck  in  the  robes  about  her  knees.  "Not  to  teach,  or  do 
any  sort  of  work,  but  just  to  glide  ahead  and  enjoy  your- 
self; how  do  you  like  that,  eh?" 

"Oh,  I  like  it  first-rate — for  a  while,"  she  smiled. 

"And  why  not  for  always?"  he  urged,  fixing  eager  eyes 
on  her  half -averted  face.  "You're  too  splendid  a  girl  to  be 
held  down  to  stupid  ways.  This  is  the  sort  of  thing 
for  you.  You  ought  to  have  your  carriage  as  you  have 


48  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

gloves  or  a  hat  Mighty  pretty  hat,  that,  by  the  way ;  but 
not  to  be  noticed  beside  the  hair  under  it,  or  the  face — By 
George,  but  you're  a  beauty !" 

She  sparkled  under  his  vehement  admiration,  for  it  was 
all  novel  to  her,  and  she  took  whatever  came  with  an  in- 
discriminate palate.  Nevertheless,  she  played  off  a  little. 

"Nonsense!"  said  she.  "You're  just  trying  to  turn  my 
head.  You  know  you  say  such  things  to  every  girl  you 
meet." 

"I  don't  meet  any  such  as  you,  miss.  They  don't  grow 
on  every  bush,  nor  on  every  million  bushes.  I've  had  some 
experience,  you  know;  I've  lived  in  towns,  I've  traveled — 
well,  let  me  see,  it  was  four  thousand  miles,  barring  ten, 
last  year — but  I've  never  seen,  anywhere,  such  a  girl  as  you 
are;  now  that's  flat.  You're  far  and  away  the  beauty  of 
the  lot." 

He  tried  to  put  his  arm  around  her  at  this,  but  Mr. 
Grey's  habitual  reticence  shielded  her  and  she  kept  him  in 
his  place  with  a  manner  that  still  further  enraptured  him. 

As  for  her,  the  contrast  of  her  last  drive  along  this  road 
through  the  mellow  mildness  of  Thanksgiving  time,  with 
Mr.  Grey's  high  converse  in  her  ears,  smote  sharply  now 
and  then  across  the  daring  flirtation  in  which  she  was  in- 
dulging. There  was  a  call  in  the  memory  like  a  far, 
clarion  note  that  catches  attention  above  any  surrounding 
clamor,  but  she  deafened  her  mind  to  its  summons.  She 
refused  to  give  heed  to  the  notion  that  she  should  turn 
from  this  gay  sport  (which  did  nobody  any  harm,  she  told 
herself)  to  stale  reality.  On  the  contrary,  she  threw  her- 
self more  wholly  into  the  part  with  the  fervor  born  of 
opposition.  Still,  she  realized  that  Mr.  Colton  must  be 
kept  occupied  to  avoid  complications,  and  she  exerted  her- 
self to  make  him  tell  stories — which  he  did  well  and  there- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  49 

fore  enjoyed — and  led  him  on  to  brag  about  his  affairs, 
his  ventures,  and  successes,  an  ever-congenial  topic;  letting 
him  break  through  only  now  and  then  into  love-making, 
even  so  in  words  alone. 

He  was  in  capital  good  humor,  enjoying  the  situation 
hugely.  She  intoxicated  him  with  her  beauty  and  mag- 
netism, while  her  way  of  turning  things  kept  his  wits 
awake,  and  whetted  his  appetite.  It  was  surprising  how 
ably  she  managed  it  all,  quite  as  if  she  had  been  born  to 
such  a  position,  he  told  himself;  but  he  knew  very  well 
what  was  her  birth. 

At  length,  amid  their  chatter  and  jokes,  he  broached  the 
idea — just  as  if  they  were  children,  she  thought,  playing 
the  impossible — that  he  should  run  away  with  her. 

"The  horses  are  in  prime  condition,"  he  added,  laugh- 
ing, but  with  an  alert  eye,  "they  could  go  thirty  miles 
without  feeling  it,  and  it  will  be  moonlight  to-night." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  might  be  lots  of  fun,"  said  she,  nonchal- 
antly acquiescing  in  the  ridiculous  make-believe,  "only  of 
course  we  should  have  to  be  married  first;  how  would  you 
manage  that?" 

"We  could  see  to  that  when  we  got  to  town,"  he  replied, 
looking  straight  between  the  horses'  ears,  as  he  guided 
them  skilfully  around  a  sharp  curve. 

"Oh  my,  no!"  she  exclaimed.  "You  don't  know  how  to 
play  this  game;  the  wedding  always  has  to  come  first,  and 
then  they  go  away,  and  are  happy  ever  after."  She  laughed 
a  gay  little  girlish  cadence,  while  he,  glancing  at  her  with 
veiled  scrutiny,  saw  at  once  that  her  nonsense  covered  no 
design. 

"Well,  let  it  be  first,  then,"  he  said  good-humoredly. 
"It  could  be  managed  easy  enough." 


50  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"You  talk  as  if  you  had  but  to  hold  up  your  finger  and 
the  world  would  obey." 

"Well,  yes;  that's  about  the  way  money  manages." 

"Money  would  never  manage  me!"  she  cried,  her  eyes 
flashing. 

"Of  course  not,"  he  assented  promptly;  "you  and  I'd 
have  to  agree  together,  and  then  we'd  make  the  money  do 
what  we  chose.  For  I've  got  money  aplenty;  how'd  you 
like  the  spending  of  it?" 

"Oh,  it  would  be  jolly  to  have  a  lot  of  money  to  spend. 
Only,  I  should  want  it  mine,  and  no  one  else's." 

"When  we  get  married,  what's  mine's  yours." 

"When!"  she  quoted  with  ironical  emphasis.  "That's 
not  likely  to  happen  soon." 

"It'll  happen  as  soon  as  you  say  the  word,"  he  urged,  his 
expression  tense. 

"What !  if  I  said  it  now,  right  off?"  She  looked  at  him 
in  curiosity,  the  excitement  of  a  first  proposal  making  her 
breast  rise  and  fall  more  quickly.  He  noticed  it,  and  seiz- 
ing her  hand,  crushed  it. 

"Yes,  say  it  now,  right  off,  and  we'll  be  married  before 
you're  an  hour  older!"  He  bent  forward  to  look  with 
ardent  eyes  into  her  face,  but  she  threw  back  her  head,  and 
broke  into  a  merry  peal  of  laughter  that  carried  off  some 
excess  of  electric  fluid.  He  let  go  her  hand. 

"What  nonsense !"  she  cried,  "you  don't  mean  a  word  of 
it,  and  certainly  I  don't;  it's  all  silly  nonsense.  The  last 
thing  I'm  thinking  of  is  getting  married.  What  would  the 
Principal  say?" 

"Who  cares?  You'll  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him 
when  you're  my  wife" 

"Why,  he's  your  own  brother!" 

"I  know  it;  that's  iv*hy.     I  don't  care  anything  about 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  51 

what  he  says,"  and  he  gave  a  sound  of  contempt.  "When 
you're  my  wife  you'll  understand." 

"If  I  wait  for  that  I  shan't  know  very  soon,"  she  said 
with  decision.  "But  where  are  we?  I  don't  know  these 
houses." 

She  looked  about  her  in  surprise.  She  had  not  noticed 
what  turnings  he  took  after  the  first  one,  when,  on  her 
saying  it  wasn't  the  right  way,  he  assured  her  it  was  merely 
a  prettier  one,  and  why  need  they  hurry  ?  Now  she  found 
herself  in  unfamiliar  country,  and  a  vague  stir  of  alarm 
mingled  with  the  perception. 

"I  guess  I  made  a  mistake  down  yonder,  you  were  so 
deuced  entertaining,"  he  reassured  her  lightly;  "but  it 
doesn't  make  any  difference.  We'll  stop  at  the  first  hotel 
we  come  to  and  warm  up.  You're  almost  frozen,  and  I 
can  hardly  hold  the  reins." 

In  fact,  the  whistle  of  wind  about  their  faces  made  the 
intenser  cold  of  the  lowering  day  penetrate  her  very  mar- 
row ;  and  when  they  drew  up  finally  at  an  inn  door  she  was 
BO  numb  he  had  almost  to  lift  her  from  the  sleigh,  and  her 
mind  was  lethargic  with  cold.  He  took  her  into  the  empty 
ladies'  room,  where  a  big  stove  radiated  most  welcome  heat, 
and  left  her  there,  staring  into  the  fire.  The  mere  animal 
sense  of  warmth  was  always  delicious  to  her;  now,  in  her 
need,  she  surrendered  to  it  as  to  the  embrace  of  one  dear. 

She  sat  still  for  some  time,  drowsily;  until  at  length 
he  roused  her  by  coming  in,  looking  rather  excited,  and 
with  a  glass  of  something  in  his  hand. 

"Drink  this,"  said  he,  "I'm  afraid  I've  given  you  your 
death  of  cold.  Drink;  it'll  do  you  good." 

But  she  wouldn't  be  persuaded;  she  had  never  tasted 
wine,  and  the  odor  of  liquor  was  nauseous  to  her. 

"No,  thank  you/'  she  said,  getting  up.    "I  don't  want 


52  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

anything,  I'm  warm  now,  and  we  must  go  on.  Pa  will  be 
anxious  if  I'm  not  there  on  time.  How  long  will  it  take 
us  from  here?"  and  she  began  to  button  her  jacket. 

"Oh,  just  a  little  while,  and  he  won't  be  anxious;  he 
knows  you're  in  good  hands,"  said  Tom  Colton  easily, 
draining  the  glass  himself.  "Besides,  you  must  have  a  cup 
of  tea  at  least  before  you  venture  out  again.  It's  getting 
colder  every  minute,  and  your  Pa'd  never  forgive  me  if 
I  let  you  get  sick.  Then  the  horses  ain't  ready  yet ;  they've 
got  to  have  their  chance,  too;  so  take  off  your  coat,  and 
111  order  the  tea." 

The  idea  of  a  hot  drink  was  grateful  to  her,  and  as  he 
went  away  again  she  laid  aside  her  wrap  and  looked  about 
her  with  more  seeing  eyes.  It  was  the  stiff  room  of  such 
an  inn:  horse-hair  furniture,  an  ivy  trained  around  the 
white  window-frame,  some  other  plants  set  to  catch  the  cold 
light,  an  ingrain  carpet,  covered  with  oilcloth  near  the 
stove;  how  ugly  it  all  was!  She  hugged  the  fire  again 
with  a  shiver.  The  desire  for  beauty  was  a  hunger  in  her, 
and  there  was  no  hint  of  beauty  here;  it  was  nicer  even 
at  home.  She  wanted  to  get  home;  home  was  a  haven  that 
beckoned  to  her,  and  her  heart  responded  with  a  somewhat 
anxious  throb. 

Mr.  Colton  returned  after  a  while  with  a  couple  of  other 
men,  who  peered  at  her  curiously.  He  introduced  them  as 
traveling  acquaintances  of  his,  and  talked  in  showy  fash- 
ion, mainly  about  himself,  while  she  hung  silent.  He 
couldn't  rouse  her,  and  when  the  tea  came  in  the  men 
went  away,  one  shaking  his  head,  the  other  slapping  Colton 
on  the  back  and  whispering  to  him  amid  much  laughter. 

He  stood  about,  keeping  up  a  ceaseless  flow  of  words, 
while  she  took  tea;  as  she  pushed  away  the  empty  cup  he 
left  the  room,  saying  he'd  be  back  in  a  minute.  Bertha 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  53 

got  into  her  things  again,  looking  out  to  see  if  the  cutter 
were  at  the  door;  it  wasn't.  Just  then  Mr.  Colton  came 
back  and  joined  her  at  the  window. 

"Oh,  don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  he  said,  bulking  large 
beside  her  and  standing  quite  close,  his  air  a  bit  perturbed. 
"There's  something  I  want  you  to  do  before  we  go." 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  moving  back  a  step.  "I  want 
to  get  on." 

"I  know  you  do,  and  so  you  shall,  just  as  soon  as  you 
help  me  out  of  a  scrape  I've  got  into  with  these  men." 

"What  sort  of  a  scrape?" 

"It's  a  bet  they  dared  me  to  take." 

"A  bet  ?  I  haven't  anything  to  do  with  bets."  She  drew 
herself  up  rather  proudly. 

"You  have  a  lot  to  do  with  this  one,"  he  chuckled.  Then 
he  sobered  and  bent  careful  eyes  upon  her,  though  he  spoke 
lightly  enough.  "They  dared  me  to  get  you  to  go  through 
the  marriage  ceremony  with  me,  just  in  fun,  you  know — 
there's  a  hundred  dollars  on  it." 

"How  absurd!"  She  started  toward  the  door,  her  head 
high.  "Come,  I  want  to  go  home  right  away."  At  the 
threshold  the  two  men,  and  a  third  behind  them,  were 
craning  long  necks  to  watch. 

"Oh,  see  here,"  cried  Colton,  holding  her  back.  "Don't 
play  off  like  that.  Be  a  good  girl  and  help  me  out.  Here's 
the  chap  who's  to  be  minister — ha,  ha ! — and  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  say  'Yes'  and  'I  will/  and  off  we  go ;  the  quicker 
we  get  through  it,  the  sooner  we'll  start.  I'm  not  going 
to  give  up  my  hundred  dollars  very  easily  now,  you  may 
be  sure.  I'll  just  coax  and  coax  until  you  give  in,  it'll  be 
shorter  to  do  it  right  away." 

He  stood  with  his  back  to  the  door  facing  her,  very  much 
aroused,  his  whole  strength  grappling  for  his  end.  The 


V 


54  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

narrow  air  between  them  seemed  to  vibrate  as  if  taut 
strings  were  struck  with  force.  She  wheeled  away,  her 
heart  beating  thickly,  and  went  toward  the  window  again, 
Colton  following  close. 

"It  doesn't  mean  an  earthly  thing,  you  know,"  he  be- 
sought in  a  low  tone.  "Be  a  good  girl  and  help  me  out. 
My  pride's  up,  for  these  men'll  jeer  at  me  if  you  don't, 
and  you  know,  now,  I've  been  good  to  you.  I  shall  be,  too ; 
we'll  have  lots  of  drives  together.  Come  along;  it's  only 
to  say  two  or  three  words,  all  in  fun,  you  know,  and  then 
I'll  take  you  straight  home,  as  fast  as  the  horses  can  trot." 

Thus  he  cajoled  her  and  the  situation  abetted  him,  for 
hurry  is  often  the  foul  fiend  in  person.  She  was  very 
anxious  to  get  home  and  consent  to  this  silly  prank  seemed 
the  shortest  way  out.  Of  course  it  wouldn't  mean  any- 
thing; there  had  to  be  a  license,  and  a  certificate,  and  all 
that,  to  get  married  really.  Moreover,  she  had  no  reason 
for  distrust;  Pa  and  Ma  and  Mr.  Grey  had  taught  her, 
through  years  of  trustworthiness,  to  rely  on  those  that  were 
kind  to  her;  and  Mr.  Colton  had  been  kind.  The  form 
once  gone  through  with,  however  repugnant  to  her  in- 
stincts, she  would  be  at  home  within  an  hour,  and  it 
wouldn't  make  any  difference.  This  she  echoed  to  herself 
from  his  persistent  reiterations,  and  at  length  she  turned 
to  him  saying: 

"Well,  hurry  up,  then;  let's  have  it  over,  and  get  away." 

He  swung  around  at  once  to  hide  the  triumph  flaming 
up,  and  without  delay  the  ceremony  was  accomplished. 
Then  the  witnesses  went  out,  congratulating  the  pair  in 
boisterous  merriment,  and  the  two  were  left  alone. 

Colton  turned  and  seized  her,  trying  to  kiss  her,  his  eyes 
gleaming  after  a  fashion  that  made  her  heart  flutter  as  a 
pigeon  does  caught  by  a  hawk;  but  she  pulled  away,  and 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  55 

insisted  on  going  home  at  once.  He  pooE-poohed  haste, 
but  she  wouldn't  listen  to  him  longer.  She  faced  him  with 
imperial  eyes;  her  way  was  dictator  now,  and  although  he 
opposed  her  will  with  importunate  resistance,  driven  by 
the  mutiny  of  every  sense  which  still  had-  to  be  kept  under 
hatches,  he  found  himself  thwarted,  deterred,  and,  pres- 
ently, mastered. 

She  had  had  no  doubt  of  ultimate  success,  but  it  was 
with  a  surge  of  pride  that  she  saw  herself  verified.  Strong 
and  passionate  though  he  might  be,  an  exhibition  of 
original  will  brought  him  to  heel ;  she  had  made  no  mistake 
in  believing  she  could  govern  him. 

He  ordered  the  cutter  brought  around,  and  when  it  came 
she  bounded  in,  glad  to  escape  from  this  oppressive  place 
that  weighed  strangely  on  her  spirits;  she  longed  beyond 
reason  to  be  safe  at  home  with  Pa  and  Ma. 

"I  can't  have  my  bride  take  cold,"  he  said,  putting  hot 
bricks  at  her  feet-  and  wrapping  her  in  a  big  shawl  he  had 
bought.  "I  don't  want  to  drive  up  to  your  Pa's  and  find 
you  a  statue  of  ice  beside  me." 

"Hurry,  then,"  she  replied,  submitting;  and  presently  a 
gay  chorus  of  good  wishes  from  the  people  assembled  at  the 
half-open  door  rang  after  them  on  the  piercing  air.  When 
they  got  beyond  the  village  he  put  his  arm  around  her, 
shawl  and  all,  and  held  it  there  despite  her  struggles. 

"Now,  my  pretty  wife,  give  your  husband  a 'kiss,"  he 
insisted.  "Come,  come;  I'm  taking  you  home  as  you  want 
me  to;  it's  your  turn  to  do  what  I  want — You  shall!" 
Suddenly  fierce,  he  tried  to  get  her  lips. 

She  prevented  him,  and  leaning  across  caught  the  whip 
from  its  socket  and  gave  the  horses  a  cut  that  forced  Col- 
ton  to  let  go  of  her  and  use  all  his  strength  to  subdue  them. 

"You  little  devil!"  he  muttered,  between  clenched  teeth. 


56  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

as  he  succeeded  in  his  tussle  with  the  lively  animals.  "Give 
me  that  whip ;  we  can't  afford  to  worry  these  brutes ;  they'll 
run  away  with  us  next."  But  she  held  it  far  out  in  her 
left  hand,  and,  as  he  tried  to  snatch  it,  pushed  him  off  witli 
her  right,  which  she  had  freed  from  the  encumbering 
shawl. 

"Let  me  alone,  then,"  she  said,  with- a  resolute  air  that 
startled  him.  "I  mean  to  keep  this  whip  until  I  get  home. 
If  the  horses  run  away  it  will  be  your  fault.  Take  this 
turn  to  the  right;  I  shan't  put  up  with  any  more  fooling." 

He  took  the  turn  obediently,  but,  "Would  it  scare  you  so 
to  be  my  wife?"  he  asked,  putting  his  face  close  to  hers, 
and  speaking  in  a  passionate  tone.  She  gave  the  horses  a 
sharp  flick  and  they  jumped  wildly. 

"Damn  it!  don't  do  that!"  and  he  bent  again  to  the 
task  she  compelled. 

"Then  let  me  alone." 

His  heavy  nature  realized  slowly  that  he  was  on  the 
wrong  tack;  so  he  remained  silent  for  a  while,  letting  her 
alone  as  she  commanded. 

The  horses  were  dashing  straight  toward  the  west  where 
the  sun  had  set.  There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky;  the 
horizon  was  a  dark  fringe  'of  forest,  and  beyond  it  was  a 
belt  of  absolutely  pure  colors;  blood-red  just  above  the 
trees,  merging  into  orange,  refining  to  yellow,  and  then 
deepening  to  an  ethereal  blue.  In  this,  the  silver  crescent 
of  the  new  moon  hung,  faint  but  gathering  radiance  as  the 
dark  came  orr.  The  beauty  of  the  scene  made  Bertha's 
heart  ache  for  Mr.  Grey. 

Presently,  while  she  gazed  at  the  spectacle,  her  com- 
panion began  to  talk,  at  first  quietly,  then  more  vehement- 
ly, at  kst  urgently;  she  was  an  alluring  sight  in  the  sun- 
set-glow. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  57 

"If  we  were  really  married,  you  should  go  everywhere 
with  me,"  he  was  saying;  "we'd  see  the  world,  Bertha,  and 
you  should  always  have  the  best:  fine  hotels,  fine  clothes, 
the  best  of  everything.  Cities  are  worth  seeing,  I  tell  you. 
There's  New  York,  now;  never  was  such  a  town  as  that. 
We'd  put  up  at  the  Saint  Nicholas,  and  go  everywhere. 
It'd  be  fun  to  take  you  to  the  show;  they'd  be  looking  at 
you  instead  of  at  the  painted  stage-ladies.  But  I'd  be 
mighty  careful  of  you.  If  any  fellow  dared  to  look  at  you 
once  too  often" — and  his  heavy  brows1  drew  together  darkly. 

The  thought  of  a  man's  being  jealous,  about  heir,  flat- 
tered her;  she  looked  upon  it  as  a  tribute  to  power;  but 
this  was  only  one  point  that  pleased.  The  whole  picture  he 
painted  had  a  potent  fascination  for  her.  To  explore  the 
world;  to  sit  at  its  bounteous  table,  and  devour  any  dish; 
to  taste  flavors  of  delicious  quality,  to  smell  the  breath  of 
life — 0  life!  surging  life,  nothing  less  than  life  in  all  its 
throbbing  amplitude,  was  what  she  craved;  the  lure  of 
having  it  at  her  command  was  well-nigh  irresistible.  Then, 
as  she  listened  again  to  his  words,  she  came  down  to  details. 

A  fine  house  would  be  hers,  just  as  she  wanted  it; 
society  she  could  command  amid  men  and  women  worth 
while,  and  she  would  discover  if  she  could  hold  her  own 
among  them.  Obviously  it  might  all  be  hers  for  the  ask- 
ing. So  she  inclined  her  ear  while  she  looked  with  medi- 
tative eyes  at  the  rainbow  colors,  now  fast  fading  into 
gloom,  but  which  seemed  to  the  imaginative  girl  like  a 
new  horizon  opening  before  her.  Was  it  the  rainbow  of 
hope,  and  of  a  brighter  life  ?  Was  this  the  apple  of  oppor- 
tunity chance  put  in  her  hand  ?  She  turned  it  round  and 
round,  feeling  it,  scenting  it,  appreciating  its  luscious  ap- 
peal. But  when  Tom  Colton  pressed  for  some  response, 
she  would  only  say: 


58  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"Wait  till  we  see  Pa  and  Ma.  I  can't  say  anything  till 
I  see  them." 

Before  they  reached  the  cottage  it  had  grown  quite  dark. 
As  they  came  through  the  village,  she.  could  see  the  people 
running  to  the  windows  to  find  out  what  the  sleigh-bells 
meant ;  it  stirred  her  pride  and  sense  of  importance ;  so  it 
might  be  always.  She  invited  her  escort  to  come  in,  and 
he  tied  the  horses,  threw  the  blankets  over  them,  and  fol- 
lowed her. 

Pa  and  Ma  knew  him ;  they  had  seen  him  several  times 
in  the  village,  he  was  a  great  man  in  their  eyes;  not  like 
Mr.  Grey,  of  course,  but  still  very-  fine.  They  were  much 
impressed  by  the  fact  that  he  had  brought  Bertie  home, 
and  were  actually  stunned  when  he  announced  that  she  was 
his  wife.  But  Bertha  revived  them. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  Pa,"  she  said  in  easy  scorn,  crossing 
the  kitchen  with  a  light  step  to  his  side,  and  laying  her 
hand  reassuringly  on  his  shoulder;  "he's  just  carrying  a 
joke  too  far.  I'm  not  married  to  him  at  all " 

"Yes,  you  are,"  interrupted  Mr.  Colton  with  emphasis, 
but  the  girl  disregarded  him. 

"We  stopped  to  get  warm,  and  went  through  the  cere- 
mony just  for  fun,  because  he'd  made  a  wager " 

"0  Bertie!"  cried  Ma  aghast,  while  Pa  shook  his  grey 
head  slowly,  his  bushy  eyebrows  puckered  over  dim  eyes 
fixed  anxiously  on  her. 

"I  tell  you  she  is  legally  my  wife,"  proclaimed  Mr.  Col- 
ton,  bringing  the  full  weight  of  his  large  presence  to  bear. 
"We  were  married  an  hour  ago  at  Stockville  before  two 
witnesses.  She  is  my  wife,  I  tell  you,  as  fast  as  the  law 
can  tie  the  knot.  She  must  do  what  I  say,  and  I  say  she  is 
to  come  with  me." 

He  spoke  in  a  tone  that  dazed  the  old  people.    They 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  59 

could  not  get  their  breath,  till  Ma's  broke  loose  in  the  wail : 
"Why  did  you  do  it,  Bertie?  Oh,  why  did  you  do  it?" 

But  Bertha  paid  no  attention  to  this  futile  query.  There 
was  a  clutch  at  her  heart  as  the  thought  seized  her  that 
what  he  said  might  be  true ;  and  a  moment  later,  in  a  wild 
huddle  of  sensations,  she  found  herself  believing  in  the 
marriage.  A  flash  of  comprehension  reproduced  the  scene 
at  the  inn,  and  stripped  it.  Never  should  she  forget  that 
ugly  room  with  its  hard,  white  light,  its  ivy,  and  red  stove. 
She  had  felt  at  the  time  that  the  drama  put  on  this  stage 
meant  more  than  it  seemed :  now  she  knew  why. 

Her  whole  being  trembled  as  the  conviction  hurled  itself 
upon  her;  words  were  strangled  by  the  impact;  she  could 
make  no  move.  But  presently,  with  the  curious  secondary 
sense  that  comes  when  the  mind  is  rent  in  two,  she  noted 
as  a  spectator  the  bewilderment  of  the  old  folks,  the  in- 
sistence of  Mr.  Colton,  the  lethargy  of  herself.  She  could 
look  on  as  if  it  were  all  a  stage,  and  she  not  one  of  the 
players;  she  subsided  into  a  seat. 

Her  strange  passivity  at  such  a  juncture  disconcerted  the 
old  people  beyond  expression.  They  had  been  used  to  see 
her  full  of  self-confidence,  decided  in  every  opinion;  now 
they  looked  at  her  sitting  in  the  corner,  gazing  at  the  fire, 
saying  nothing,  letting  some  one  else  do  all  the  talking, 
though  the  matter  concerned  her  supremely;  and  their 
minds  were  lost  in  pathless  places.  Pa  scratched  the  thin 
hair  streaking  his  half-bald  head  and  looked  from  Ma  to 
Bertie,  to  Mr.  Colton,  in  a  dumb  anguish  of  perplexity. 

Tom  Colton  meanwhile  was  very  voluble.  He  repeated 
to  the  girl's  guardians  what  he  had  spread  before  Bertha; 
he  told  them  she  should  never  want,  that  he.  was  rich,  and 
she  should  have  what  she  chose,  he'd  be  good  to  her  always, 
and  he  wound  up  each  one  of  his  periods  with  the  words : 


60  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"And  you  see,  there's  this  to  be  kept  in  mind:  she's  my 
wife;  that's  a  fixed  fact" 

This  indeed  was  the  gist  of  the  predicament  to  the  old 
couple.  Marriage  was  an  inviolable  institution  to  them; 
however  brought  about,  however  hasty  and  irregular,  the 
fact  was  sacred.  That  Bertie  was  his  wife  according  to 
law  was  the  conclusion  to  which  they  were  forced,  when,  at 
length,  seeing  them  still  doubtful,  he  produced  with  much 
ado  a  marriage  certificate  and  submitted  it  to  their  ignorant 
scrutiny.  Bertha  glanced  rather  with  a  sense  of  fulfilment 
than  any  other  interest  at  the  portentous  document;  she 
believed,  hence  testimony  was  of  small  value.  On  Pa  and 
Ma,  however,  the  paper  had  almost  a  coercive  effect ;  never- 
theless there  was  another  point  to  be  determined:  Did 
Bertie  want  to  be  his  wife? 

This  the  old  man  asked  in  a  whisper,  bending  over  her 
with  a  heart  of  yearning  tenderness.  Did  she  like  the  idea? 
Would  she  be  willing  to  go  away — 

"Have  I  any  choice?"  queried  the  girl  in  a  clear,  out- 
spoken tone,  looking  straight  up  into  Pa's  eyes.  There  was 
a  strange  expression  in  hers,  quite  unlike  anything  there 
before;  he  couldn't  understand  it.  "If  I  am  his  lawful 
wife,  mustn't  I?"  she  said,  and  her  only  protector  turned 
away,  still  more  awash  with  doubts. 

There  came  a  gleam  of  malice  into  Bertha's  face  as  she 
saw  his  inability  to  cope  with  the  question.  Hadn't  Mr. 
Grey  told  her  to  go  to  Pa  when  she  needed  advice,  and 
hadn't  she  done  it?  Well,  let  them  take  the  weight  of 
decision;  between  them,  they  should  dispose  of  her.  She 
didn't  care,  she  told  herself,  whether  she  went  or  stayed, 
whether  she  lived  or  died;  and  yet  it  was  with  a  sort  of 
half-repugnant  pleasure  that  she  foresaw  how  the  matter 
would  end. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  61 

The  old  folks  would  not  admit  anything  as  settled  that 
night,  however,  and  Mr.  Colton  left  at  last  unwillingly, 
repeating  over  and  over  that  he  would  come  for  his  wife 
in  the  morning  and  she  must  be  ready  to  go.  As  he  bade 
her  good-night  he  boldly  essayed  to  kiss  her,  but  she  evaded 
him,  and  the  pair,  watching  for  a  sign,  noted  the  incident 
sadly. 

Once  by  themselves,  confronting  the  stupendous  change, 
Pa  and  Ma  tried  to  get  Bertha  to  enlighten  them,  but  she 
was  perverse;  she  would  only  reiterate  facts,  which  told 
little  of  realities.  However,  brought  to  book  as  they  had 
been  by  documentary  evidence,  their  opposition  was  sapped ; 
and,  after  a  little,  they  found  themselves  making  the  best 
of  what  was  done  and  couldn't  be  undone;  coming  to  the 
conclusion,  indeed,  that  it  was  a  fine  chance  for  their  little 
Bertie,  just  as  the  seminary  had  been.  A  sense  of  repeti- 
tion in  the  experience,  different  as  were  the  factors,  be- 
guiled them  into  a  sort  of  timorous  security.  They  had 
parleyed  long  with  themselves  over  what  had  turned  out 
the  best  thing  in  the  world;  perhaps  here  it  would  be  the 
same. 

Colton  returned  betimes.  Bertha  met  him  in  the  morn- 
ing light  with  a  dignity  that  impressed  him  in  spite  of 
himself,  and  made  him  greet  with  a  high  throb  of  victory 
the  reluctant  compliance  of  the  old  folk  to  his  claim. 
They  pleaded  for  a  little  visit  from  their  darling,  but,  once 
master,  he  put  on  a  dictatorial  air,  saying  he  had  most 
important  business  that  could  not  be  delayed  an  hour,  and 
his  wife  must  go  with  him;  he'd  buy  her  everything  she 
needed.  Bertha  said  nothing,  and  Pa,  after  a  wistful 
glance  at  her,  yielded  his  dear  desires.  Colton  hurried  her 
off  to  put  on  her  things,  and  she  went  upstairs,  trembling 
a  little,  but  upheld  by  a  curious  mingling  of  hope,  dread, 


62  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

and  defiance.  She  knew  nothing  whatever  of  marriage,  and 
she  had  entire  confidence  in  her  power  to  govern  this  man 
according  to  her  will  when  she  chose.  Let  Mr.  Grey  come 
back — though  a  sob  caught  her  throat  at  the  thought — he'd 
find  it  was  true  she  needed  a  prop  no  longer;  she  could 
carve  out  a  life  for  herself. 

She  bade  good-bye  to  her  little  room  under  the  rafters, 
and  to  the  little  cottage,  and  to  the  dear  old  Pa  and  Ma, 
and  to  the  dear  old  life  whose  center  was  Mr.  Grey.  She 
drove  off  beside  her  husband,  the  old  people  showering  tear- 
ful blessings  upon  her,  the  village  agog  with  excitement — 
"Bertha  Henley  married!  and  to  such  a  rich  gentleman! — 
my,  but  she's  ambitious !"  and  when  they  were  on  the  lonely 
road  again  she  let  him  put  his  arm  around  her,  met  his 
burning  eyes  an  instant,  felt  his  kiss — and  this  time  she 
used  no  whip. 


CHAPTEE  VI 

A  MONTH  later,  Bertha  Colton  in  a  Chicago  hotel  told  the 
bell-boy  to  ask  the  proprietor  if  he  would  be  so  kind  as  to 
come  to  her ;  she  wished  to  speak  to  him  a  few  moments. 

When  she  had  given  her  message  she  turned  back  to  the 
window,  past  which  a  company  of  soldiers  was  marching, 
with  heads  erect,  eyes  front,  flags  flying,  bayonets  glancing, 
while  the  air  pulsed  with  cheers.  The  sight  and  sound 
thrilled  her  despite  the  terrible  shipwreck  she  had  made; 
they  were  waves  of  the  mighty  stream  of  life  for  which  she 
had  thirsted,  and  which  had  stranded  her  here. 

Here ;  she  faced  the  room  as  the  last  soldier  filed  around 
a  turn,  and  the  crowd  broke  up.  The  apartment  was  hand- 
somely furnished,  with  plush,  and  mirrors,  and  a  velvet 
carpet;  Bertha  had  thought  it  palatial  on  entering,  and 
her  outward  show  had  been  quickly  brought  into  congruity 
with  her  surroundings.  Colton  had  taken  her  shopping  the 
day  after  their  arrival,  and  fitted  her  out  in  every  detail. 
His  eye  had  been  trained  by  his  business,  and,  infatuated 
with  his  fresh  possession,  he  had  dressed  her  as  a  child 
dresses  a  doll,  solely  for  his  own  gratification ;  that  it  hap- 
pened to  please  her  was  a  mere  appendix. 

But  Bertha  herself,  the  being  of  her,  was  more  altered 
than  any  external  change  could  even  suggest.  All  the  years 
that  were  past  had  taught  her  little  compared  with  what 
she  had  lived  in  the  last  month.  The  cup  of  life  had 
gurgled  at  her  lips,  and  she  had  almost  choked  in  the  swal- 

63 


64  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

lowing.  Ages  away  seemed  girlhood ;  existence  prior  to  Chi- 
cago had  been  a  drowse;  coming  there  she  woke  to  reality. 
By  this  one  month's  experience,  life — the  dear  life  she  had 
so  fondly  loved — was  made  destitute,  as  a  condemned  man 
is  stripped,  down  to  the  bare  body,  of  all  his  rights  and 
privileges.  Naked  stood  existence,  every  illusion  torn 
away.  She  knew  herself  as  never  before,  she  knew  some- 
thing of  the  world,  and  she  knew  Colton.  He  was  profane 
throughout,  he  desecrated  everything  he  touched,  he  made 
life  itself  an  offense,  a  sneer  at  all  things  fair  and  of  good 
report — 

She  turned  sharply  as  a  knock  came,  restless  to  push 
away  the  bitter  wormwood  of  her  thoughts :  action  was  the 
point. 

A  kindly  man,  white-haired  and  blue-eyed,  entered. 
"You  wanted  me,  madam?"  he  asked  pleasantly. 

"Yes,  thank  you  for  coming,"  she  replied,  motioning 
him  to  a  chair  and  taking  one  near.  As  she  leaned  on  the 
table  the  lace  of  her  sleeve  fell  back,  disclosing  a  rounded 
arm  strikingly  fair  against  the  deep  red  gown.  Mr.  Har- 
rison thought  he  had  never  seen  a  handsomer  young  woman. 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  you  about  myself,  my  position,"  she 
said,  wasting  no  time  in  preliminaries,  and  looking  him 
clearly  in  the  face.  "You  know  my  husband  left  me  yes- 
terday?" 

"Yes,  m'm.  He  went  to  New  York.  He  said  he  would 
be  back  next  week." 

"But  he  will  not,"  stated  Mrs.  Colton  evenly.  "He  will 
not  return;  he  has  abandoned  me." 

"Abandoned  you !"  exclaimed  the  man  in  astonishment, 
for  indeed  she  little  looked  one  to  abandon. 

"A  fact,  nevertheless,"  she  insisted,  with  a  passing  smile 
for  the  high  valuation  she  saw  in  his  glance. 


.      A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  65 

"My  dear  madam,  he  left  only  yesterday;  how  can  you 
think » 

"I  know  my  husband,"  she  continued  in  the  same  quiet 
tone,  but  it  had  a  finality  that  disconcerted  Mr.  Harrison's 
lack  of  belief;  he  drew  a  sharp  breath  of  readjustment, 
and  she  went  on:  "Moreover,  he  left  a  note  for  me  and  a 
hundred  dollars ;  that  is  all  I  have  to  meet  the  world  with, 
and  you  see  I  must  do  something.  The  diploma  I  hold 
from  the  Evansville  seminary  would  help  me  to  get  a  place 
to  teach,  as  I  taught  there,  if  you  would  put  me  in  the  way 
of  trying;  will  you?" 

Her  face,  paled  and  somewhat  drawn  by  many  emotions 
and  her  first  sleepless  night,  looked  with  appealing  dignity 
into  his,  and  touched  the  man  deeply;  in  fact,  as  he  ex- 
pressed it  afterwards,  he  was  never  so  dumfounded  in  his 
life.  To  see  a  young  girl,  with  beauty,  good  education  and 
manners,  admitting  that  she  had  been  deserted  by  her  hus- 
band, and  setting  out  bravely  to  maintain  her  own  self- 
respect — rudely  assailed  as  it  was,  roughly  demolished  as 
most  women  would  have  felt  it — was  tremendously  impres- 
sive. There  was  no  wail  for  sympathy,  such  as  his  ears 
often  heard  in  these  sad  times,  for  less  cause;  there  was 
no  weak-kneed  clinging  to  any  chance  prop,  but  simplj  an 
appeal  for  opportunity  to  help  herself.  Perhaps  had  she 
been  more  dependent  in  manner  she  would  have  challenged 
his  masculine  instinct  of  protection  to  a  greater  degree; 
but  he  had  a  heart,  and  a  daughter,  and  quickly  reached 
the  decision  to  aid.  He  told  her  he  would  see  what  he 
could  arrange,  for  his  experience  had  sufficed  to  make  him 
aware  that  if  a  wife  thinks  her  husband  a  poltroon  he  is 
not  unlikely  to  prove  so ;  and  if  her  husband  should  return 
it  would  do  no  harm  to  find  her  teaching,  while  if  not,  her 
need  was  plain. 


66  i        A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"Until  you  get  a  position  I  hope  you  will  keep  this 
room,"  he  added  as  he  rose  to  go.  "I'll  see  that  Mr.  Col- 
ton  pays  for  it.  And  if  there  is  anything  else  I  can  do, 
I  wish  you  would  remember  that  I  have  a  girl  about  your 
age,  and  that  I'll  be  glad  to  serve  you  as  I  would  have  a 
stranger  serve  her."  His  blue  eyes  were  gentle  and  re- 
minded her  of  Mr.  Grey. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you!"  she  cried  impetuously,  reserve 
thawed.  "You  are  exceedingly  kind,"  and  she  held  out 
her  hand  with  warm  gratitude,  while  her  lips  trembled,  and 
her  eyes  filled. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  responded,  shaking  her  hand  heartily, 
"just  a  father.  Now  don't  be  downcast ;  we'll  get  you  on 
your  feet  and  it  will  all  come  right  in  the  end." 

As  he  left  the  room  Bertha  sunk  into  an  easy  chair  by 
the  fire,  while  the  tears  dried  on  her  cheeks.  There  was, 
then,  kindness  in  the  world,  notwithstanding.  She  needn't 
be  thinking  of  the  lake  yet,  as  she  did  so  often,  so  de- 
spairingly, last  night.  If  he  would  find  her  a  place  to 
teach,  she  could  get  along  somehow. 

Unmoored  as  she  was,  the  buoyancy  of  life  made  her 
still  ride  the  waves,  despite  the  salt  spume  in  her  teeth; 
she  would  plunge  on,  taking  what  came.  How  trivial 
seemed  the  village  experiences  that  a  month  ago  were  great 
to  her!  Here  she  was,  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  city  alone, 
shamed  in  the  face  of  the  world  she  had  meant  to  dazzle, 
yet  surely  innocent,  for  where  had  she  been  guilty  in  this 
base  betrayal  ?  She  understood  now  why  Mr.  Grey  wished 
to  keep  her  away  from  cities — yet  her  mother  had  fared  no 
better  in  the  country.  Her  poor  mother;  what  had  become 
of  her  ? 

Tom  Colton  had  taunted  Bertha  with  her  mother  one 
day,  and  said  she  was  mighty  lucky  to  get  such  a  husband 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  &ti 

as  he;  and  then  he  had  laughed  loudly,  slapping  his  thigh 
in  his  merriment  over  some  barbarous  jest  he  had  up  his 
sleeve.  The  morning  that  he  left  he  plucked  it  forth  and 
flaunted  it  in  her  miserable  face. 

"You  made  me  tell  an  awful  pack  of  lies,"  he  grunted, 
lolling  back  in  a  chair,  spent  with  mirth.  "What  a  mum- 
mery that  marriage  was,  certificate  and  all!  He,  he! 
Who'd  ever  have  been  gulled  by  it  but  such  a  pair  of  cursed 
innocents  as  your  wood-doves,  Ta'  and  'Ma.'  And  you 
weren't  any  better;  it  was  easy  enough  to  fool  you;  amaz- 
ing easy  when  you  have  such  a  good  head.  You  showed 
yourself  an  idiot,  my  dear,  in  spite  of  your  cleverness. 
Somebody  else  was  cleverer.  Ha,  ha !  At  times  I've  won- 
dered if  you  didn't  know  all  along,  and  just  thought  you'd 
seize  your  chance ;  did  you  ?"  He  watched  her  keenly  be- 
tween half-shut  lids. 

"I  knew  nothing,"  she  said,  bitter  desolation  in  her  tone, 
"nothing,  nothing." 

She  had  not  been  really  surprised  at  what  he  told  her, 
for  a  day  or  two  of  association  with  him  was  enough  to 
teach  her  he  was  a  liar.  Of  course  it  hadn't  been  hard 
for  him  to  trick  her,  to  trick  them  all,  such  a  set  of  inno- 
cents as  they  were.  Yet  not  to  trust  was  so  foreign  to  her 
nature  that  she  believed  him  now  as  she  had  believed 
him  then.  Life  was  a  fraud;  she  was  nobody's  daughter 
and  nobody's  wife;  she  was  a  rootless  weed  thrown  on  the 
waves  to  be  buffeted  as  they  chose. 

Shortly  after  this  talk  he  had  gone  out,  shirking  speech 
on  his  intention,  and  presently  she  had  found  his  note  and 
the  money.  It  was  all  of  a  piece;  every  part  fitted,  the 
gates  of  the  world  were  clanged  to,  and  locked  with  a  snap 
in  her  face.  She  had  thought  education  was  the  key,  Mr. 
Grey  had  encouraged  the  idea — 


68  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Mr.  Grey  —  it  was  anguish  to  think  of  him  —  she 
wouldn't !  she  would  tear  her  heart  out  by  the  roots  first ! 

Oh,  but  she  must;  it  would  keep  her  from  accepting 
defeat.  He  had  told  her  she  would  have  hardships  to  en- 
dure, within  and  without,  and  that  she  must  triumph  over 
them.  A  bugle  called  in  the  street,  and  she  sprung  upright 
as  to  its  summons.  She  would  fight;  war  was  in  the 
air ;  it  should  be  war  with  her,  too.  Superb,  she  confronted 
fate.  She  defied  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil;  she 
felt  intimately  acquainted  with  all  three  in  the  person  of 
Tom  Colton ;  but  she  defied  even  him ;  he  should  not  thrust 
her  into  the  mire. 


Mr.  Harrison  came  back  the  next  day  to  tell  her  that 
probably  she  would  get  a  position  on  the  west  side  before 
long.  While  she  waited  she  went  about  the  town,  seeing 
the  city  life  she  had  so  desired,  yet  with  only  half-seeing 
eyes;  despite  the  strong  tendency  of  her  nature  to  be 
vividly  aware  of  the  present  alone.  Tumult  stormed  in 
her  mind,  while  emotion  tossed  her  violently  from  height 
of  will  to  trough  of  despair.  Hope  was  mocked  with 
corpses  instead  of  life;  fate  stared  at  her  from  a  grinning 
skull.  God  had  forgotten  her,  Mr.  Grey  had  left  her,  the 
old  people  knew  no  better  than  to  let  her  fall  into  such  a 
trap  as  this — and  the  waves  of  seething  misery  choked  her 
thoughts. 

But  she  came  to  the  surface  again  in  the  recurrent 
memory  of  the  dear  old  folks;  beloved  Pa,  and  stern, 
faithful  Ma.  They  would  always  love  her,  but  she  could 
never  go  back  to  them,  never  let  them,  or  the  village,  or 
the  seminary,  learn  of  this  abject  defeat,  this  shipwreck  of 
her  rich  cargo  of  dreams.  She  had  solely  herself  to  live 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  69 

for,  she  must  stand  alone,  but  she  must  stand.  No  sur- 
render, should  be  her  motto;  never  give  in.  Struggle  on; 
through,  if  you  must,  but  on,  ever  on.  The  country  and 
childhood  were  behind  her;  here  in.  the  city,  amid  the 
shock  and  contest  of  life,  was  her  battleground,  here  she 
would  win. 

And  the  levies  steadily  plodding  to  the  front,  awaited  by 
grim  wounds  and  grisly  death  and  glory ;  the  martial  music, 
the  throb  of  drums  in  the  air,  the  throb  of  freedom  in  the 
breast;  the  lift  of  an  unselfish  cause  for  which  men  pas- 
sionately sacrificed  all,  and  held  it  slight  in  the  giving; 
the  high  devotion  of  women — carrying  their  babes,  chil- 
dren tugging  at  their  skirts — steadfast-eyed  in  love  as  the 
husband  and  father  marched  past — all  these  sights  and  sen- 
sations conspicuous  on  the  street,  emboldened  Bertha, 
stimulated  her  heart,  thrilled  her  being,  sanctioned  her 
resolve.  Surely  life  had  in  it  wherewithal  to  live,  since 
such  things  were. 

She  was  installed  presently  in  the  position  expected,  and 
went  to  work  with  a  will.  Occupation  steadied  her,  and 
forming  new  ties  with  pupils  and  co-workers  brought  her 
to  the  normal,  which,  with  her,  was  a  lively  attention  to 
whatever  she  did.  Her  salary,  though  insignificant  to  a 
city-bred  person,  was  more  than  at  the  seminary,  and 
proved  sufficient,  which  was  all  she  asked  of  it.  Mr.  Har- 
rison advised  her  as  to  a  boarding-place,  and  kept  a  fatherly 
watch  at  an  honest  distance.  Thus  relieved  of  the  funda- 
mental concern  in  regard  to  bread  and  bed,  with  reviving 
interest  she  seized  life  as  it  passed  and  made  it  give.  She 
was  determined  to  get  whatever  there  was  to  have,  to  get 
power,  success;  not  products  so  much  as  that  which*  pro- 
duces, ever  the  dynamic.  Anything  that  came  within 
reach  she  held  in  the  fork  of  her  mind  until  she  knew  it. 


70  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

The  ore  of  experience  found  ready  mintage,  and,  stamped 
with  her  own  personality,  passed  into  circulation  through 
the  press.  The  boarding-house  people  read  her  verses  and 
stories,  and  bragged  of  her  presence  among  them;  which, 
indeed,  to  their  arid  lives  was  an  everflowing  spring  of 
interest.  She  was  the  object  of  incessant  gossip  of  course, 
being  so  striking,  vivid,  unusual,  and  in  anomalous  cir- 
cumstances. She  did  not  goad  the  inquisitive,  however, 
by  making  any  mystery  of  her  situation;  without  demur 
she  spoke  of  her  husband  and  his  desertion,  though  with 
surprising  celerity  he  was  sinking  into  the  background  of 
her  consciousness;  it  was  only  for  society's  sake  that  she 
retained  his  name  and  the  word  husband.  She  had  slight 
regard  for  legality,  which,  in  truth,  had  given  her  small 
cause  to  respect  it.  Life  had  begun  for  her  without  it, 
and  the  only  time  it  had  come  near  her,  it  was  used  as  a 
lure  to  the  trap,  which,  once  sprung,  would  now  drop  her 
into  fathomless  abysses.  But  she  refused  to  fall,  the  trap 
itself  should  be  her  support  so  long  as  she  needed  it ;  hence, 
"Mrs.  Colton"  she  remained. 

Never  was  there  a  period  in  the  nation's  history  more 
fitted  to  draw  her  forth  than  this  special  hour.  In  the 
forcing-house  of  war,  when  whatever  is  within  manifests 
itself  swiftly,  her  powers  developed  as  if  by  magic.  At 
such  a  time  the  obvious  alone  makes  an  impression;  acts, 
words,  capture  the  mind;  the  fact  is  the  commander. 
Bertha  and  her  time  were  created  to  meet  each  other;  she 
gave  body  to  ideas,  she  proclaimed  them  bravely,  she  waved 
the  flag,  and  beat  the  drum,  and  shouted  with  the  multi- 
tude. 

Thus  once  aroused  to  the  significance  of  the  issue  that 
drew  men  into  armies,  and  armies  into  battle,  she  threw 
her  utmost  energy  on  the  side  of  freedom.  Tech- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  71 

idealities,  as  she  called  them — dubbing  such  even  the  aegis 
of  government,  secession,  the  Union — were  trifling  to  her 
mind  compared  with  the  one  great  point  in  controversy: 
Shall  human  beings  be  slaves  or  free?  Afire  with  convic- 
tion that  increased  her  magnetism  to  a  well-nigh  irre- 
sistible extent,  she  swept  the  tardy  to  the  recruiting-sta- 
tion, winding  up  their  lax  spirits  to  high  valor,  making 
her  enthusiasm  run  like  flame  through  the  stubble  of  their 
natures,  so  that  they  volunteered  with  ardor,  disdaining  the 
possibility  of  death  in  the  heroic  maintenance  of  right. 

Colonel  Grey  at  the  front  heard  of  her  through  one  of 
these  men  and  listened  in  astonishment.  She  was  spoken 
of  as  a  potentate,  which  in  very  deed  she  was:  she  had 
changed  their  way  of  thinking,  a  fact  which  had  changed 
their  lives.  He  heard  also  a  disjointed  version  of  her  his- 
tory, quite  unknown  to  him,  for  she  had  not  written  after 
her  runaway  marriage  nor  had  rumor  borne  him  the  news. 
As  soon  as  he  returned  to  his  tent,  he  pushed  other  mat- 
ters aside  and  wrote  her  a  letter  full  of  amazement,  sym- 
pathy, praise,  and  affectionate  inquiry. 

She  hugged  it  to  her  bosom  when  it  reached  her,  and 
read  it  over  and  over;  but  it  never  had  an  answer.  She 
could  not  reply  from  the  surface  merely,  and  anything  else 
was  too  bitter  a  draught.  Before  him  she  would  fain  ap- 
pear only  as  conqueror,  as  victor  over  circumstances  and 
herself ;  and  she  was  far  from  this :  war  was  still  on. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SEVERAL  months  passed  without  a  word  from  Colton,  and 
Bertha  felt  that  in  being  delivered  from  him  she  had  shaken 
off  Satan's  hand.  He  was  so  alien  to  her,  especially  as 
she  had  become,  that  the  month  with  him  sometimes 
seemed  incredible,  a  nightmare  merely,  from  which  she  had 
wakened  to  sanity  and  relief. 

But  one  evening,  after  talking  brilliantly  to  a  full  par- 
lor, she  had  just  left  it  with  a  gay  good-night  to  the 
dazzled  folk  gazing  after  her,  and  had  reached  her  room 
still  chatting  with  Mrs.  Endicott,  an  elderly  woman  of  a 
better  class  than  the  other  boarders,  when  she  broke  off 
short  in  what  she  was  saying,  gave  a  gasp,  and  fell  faint- 
ing on  the  sofa.  As  she  recovered,  she  saw  the  lady  watch- 
ing her  with  speculative  eyes;  Bertha  met  them  with  a 
frightened  interrogation,  and  Mrs.  Endicott  nodded  pity- 
ingly. 

Oh,  the  anguish  of  that  hour!  Nothing  that  had  gone 
before  could  be  compared  with  it.  She  was  thrown  with 
violence  against  the  stony  world  where  it  was  most  pitiless ; 
and  she  was  not  alone;  another  life  hung  on  hers;  to  an- 
other life  would  come  the  burden  she  had  found  so  hard 
to  bear.  Man  and  God  had  conspired  against  her  from 
the  hour  of  her  birth,  and  now  they  brought  her  to  this. 

She  sent  Mrs.  Endicott  away  shortly,  and  lay  prone,  fac- 
ing the  black  night.  She  was  crushed  by  this  terrible  fact; 
what  should  have  been  pure  joy  was  torment.  Every 

72 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  75 

sacred  experience  came  to  her  smutched,  befouled;  why 
should  she  be  singled  out  for  such  cruelty?  What  was 
God  about  that  he  should  let  the  innocent  suffer  so? 
Motherhood,  at  birth  within  her,  rose  militant  to  defend 
this  fatherless  little  one;  she  knew  by  a  life's  experience 
what  small  mercy  is  meted  out  to  the  fatherless.  How 
could  God  be  a.  father  and  so  treat  his  children  ?  Better 
she  and  the  child  should  die  than  live  shamed,  defaced. 

She  got  up  at  length  wearily  and  felt  her  way  to  the 
window,  opening  the  blinds  and  looking  out  on  the  wet, 
sodden  street.  Not  a  light  in  heaven  or  on  earth.  To  die; 
wasn't  that  the  best  way  out?  Her  child — It  was  her 
responsibility  to  say  whether  it  should  cease  now,  or  grow 
on  to  endure  all  she  herself  had  undergone.  She  and  her 
mother  had  met  the  same  fate,  repeated  the  same  tale  of 
wretchedness;  should  it  go  on,  and  on?  No.  The  wheel 
of  wrong,  and  birth,  and  misery,  of  wrong,  and  birth  and 
misery,  should  be  spiked  here  and  now.  The  universe  itself 
could  not  force  her  to  live  unless  she  chose.  You  have  pro- 
voked me  too  far !  she  cried  to  the  black  sky,  throwing  up 
her  arms  wildly.  I  will  destroy  what  you  created  without 
consent  from  me.  I  am  free !  I  can  do  what  I  choose  with 
my  own.  Life's  mine,  death's  mine — 

She  turned  to  make  a  light  and  dress,  her  full  lips  thrust 
out  obstinately ;  but  with  the  action  the  thought  came  back 
to  her  from  another  angle,  and  arrested  her.  Life  was  hers, 
true;  life  was  her  right,  her  inalienable  privilege;  so  it 
was  her  child's:  why  should  they  die?  They  were 
innocent,  she  could  proclaim  it  proudly.  She  repudiated 
the  evil  man  would  link  with  her  life,  she  would 
not  charge  herself  with  it.  She  and  her  child  were  vic- 
tims, and  she  would  not  lie  supine  under  being  victimized ; 
she  would  not  surrender  to  this  fate  that  hounded  her. 


74  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

\  y 

Nor  would  sne  rob  the  little  creature,  wholly  at  her  mercy, 
of  the  very  thing  for  which  men  were  fighting,  of  what  she 
so  eagerly  upheld — the  freedom  to  live,  and  be  one's  own. 

Her  mouth  straightened  into  tense  resolve  as  will  grasped 
again  its  sceptre,  but  how,  how,  was  it  going  to  reign? 
how  could  she  spare  with  one  hand,  and  not  buffet  with 
the  other?  how  was  she  going  to  carry  this  crushing 
weight? 

When  she  camo  back  from  school  the  next  day,  she  went 
up  to  see  Mrs.  Endicott.  This  dowager  was  about  sixty 
years  of  age,  with  pretty  grey  hair,  small  eyes,  and  a  heavy 
mouth.  Her  husband  was  a  business  man,  preoccupied  with 
affairs,  their  children  were  married  out  of  town,  and  house- 
keeping was  abandoned,  so  Mrs.  Endicott  found  herself 
empty-handed,  and  regarded  Bertha  Colton  as  a  very  en- 
livening addition  to  her  wide  circle  of  acquaintances.  This 
uncommon  young  woman  would  make  her  mark  some  day, 
and  Mrs.  Endicott  was  keen  to  assume  the  position  of 
patron  toward  her. 

Bertha  on  her  side  knew  perfectly  that  in  seeking  Mrs. 
Endicott's  advice  she  would  get  the  world's  judgment  of 
the  situation,  not  because  Mrs.  Endicott  led  the  world,  but 
because  she  was  its  very  humble  servant.  She  constructed 
her  opinions  according  to  the  dictate  of  society  and  this 
was  what  Bertha  wanted  to  learn:  hadn't  Mr.  Grey  told 
her  to  conform  to  the  world's  standard  until  she  had  mas- 
tered its  rules?  So  before  this  epitome  of  society  Bertha 
laid  her  case  with  apparent  frankness  behind  which  were 
hidden  discreet  reserves,  for  nobody  tells  the  world  every- 
thing, ending  with  the  question:  After  last  evening's 
revelation,  what  was  she  to  do? 

"Why  did  your  husband  leave  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Endi- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  75 

cott,  taking  advantage  of  her  opportunity  to  feed  curiosity. 
"Was  it  just  a  quarrel,  or  something  more  serious?" 

"He  left  me  because  he  was  afraid  I  would  dominate 
him,  and  I  should ;  but  the  idea  of  being  dominated  fright- 
ens such  a  man." 

Bertha  spoke  with  so  withering  a  contempt  that  her 
hearer  felt  a  sudden  sympathy  for  the  husband. 

"If  you  fancy  you  can  'dominate'  him,  now  is  your  time 
to  try,"  she  replied  with  an  edge  to  her  laughter :  the  con- 
ceit of  such  security  irritated  her  a  trifle.  "Certainly  you 
ought  to  be  with  him,"  she  went  on,  sobering.  "If  he 
knew  the  condition  of  affairs,  very  likely  he  would  let  by- 
gones be  bygones,  and  come  back  to  you.  Do  you  know 
where  he  is?  Couldn't  you  take  means  to  discover?  A 
man  would  be  a  brute  who  wasn't  touched  by  your  cir- 
cumstances." 

"He  is  a  brute,"  said  Bertha,  in  a  cold,  weary  voice.  So 
this  was  the  world's  verdict:  she  ought  to  abase  herself 
before  Tom  Colton,  and  beg  for  pity — whine  at  his  feet. 
Never !  The  lake  sooner. 

She  went  to  her  room  with  effusive  offers  of  sympathy 
ringing  in  her  ears;  she  put  on  a  loose  gown,  and  lay  on 
the  sofa,  staring  at  the  ceiling  with  rebellious  eyes.  Here 
a  messenger  from  the  hotel  proprietor  found  her  and  gave 
her  a  note.  It  enclosed  one  from  Tom  Colton:  after 
months  of  silence  now  he  wrote.  Mr.  Harrison  had  for- 
warded it  with  a  glad  heart,  the  brave  young  wife  was 
going  to  be  rewarded  at  last. 

It  looked  like  something  very  different  than  reward  to 
Bertha:  was  it  doom? 

She  opened  the  letter  slowly,  lingering  as  if  to  put  off 
a  fatal  moment;  her  soul  cowered  at  the  thought  of  com- 


76  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

ing  in  contact  with  him  again,  even  through  a  piece  of 
paper.    It  read: 

"My  dear  Bertha,  ray  handsome  Wife: 

"Join  me  at  Louisville  on  the  llth.  I  shall  be  there  a 
week,  and  I  will  send  you  money  as  soon  as  I  know  this 
reaches  you.  I  have  heard  what  your  life  has  been  since 
we  separated,  and  I  am  glad  you  are  fit  to  come  back  to 
me " 

She  started  to  her  feet,  flinging  aside  the  letter  with  a 
peal  of  laughter  that  sounded  almost  crazed.  She — she 
fit  to  go  back  to  him ! 

Despite  the  leaden  heart,  her  step  was  still  marvellously 
light  as  she  went  to  and  fro  in  agitation,  until  she  could 
master  her  disgust  sufficiently  to  go  on  with  the  business. 
When  she  had  glanced  through  the  remaining  lines,  she 
rang  and  sent  a  message  to  Mrs.  Endicott:  the  woman's 
laugh  had  annoyed  her. 

The  lady  came  in  promptly,  her  face  one  interrogation 
mark ;  but  she  did  not  fail  to  note  how  individual  the  room 
looked  on  which  Bertha  had  stamped  her  own  manner; 
and  how  imposing  Mrs.  Colton  herself  appeared  in  the 
long,  loose  gown  that  left  every  movement  unfettered — 
certainly  she  was  a  splendid  creature. 

Bertha  handed  her  the  letter  and  watched  her  read  it, 
which  Mrs.  Endicott  did  with  great  interest,  finding  her- 
self duly  shocked.  His  wife  had  a  devilish  smart  way  of 
making  him  do  as  she  wanted,  he  wrote;  he  couldn't  rid 
himself  of  the  impression  she  had  made  on  him.  He  hated 
to  be  burdened,  but  he  hated  worse  to  be  without  her. 
Nevertheless  he  didn't  intend  to  let  any  woman  get  the 
upper  hand  of  him;  he  didn't  intend  it  any  more  now  than 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  77 

before,  but  probably  she  had  learned  her  lesson.  He  signed 
himself,  "Your  loving  Husband." 

Mrs.  Endicott,  handing  back  the  letter,  felt  a  stealthy 
sense  of  envy  toward  anyone  who  could  so  command  an- 
other ;  but  what  she  said  was : 

"I  congratulate  you,  my  dear.  It  is  a  striking  case  of 
providential  interference,"  and  she  tried  to  look  pious. 
Bertha  sprung  to  her  feet,  for  it  was  impossible  to  keep  still 
under  such  words,  and  Mrs.  Endicott  watched  her  supple 
movements  with  an  appraising  eye. 

"What  do  you  advise  me  to  do?"  demanded  Bertha  at 
length,  stopping  before  the  worldly  judge  throned  in  an 
armchair.  The  latter  looked  up  into  the  strained  face, 
whence  large  eyes  of  pain  were  bent  upon  her,  and  hesi- 
tated, but  only  for  a  moment.  She  much  preferred  that 
some  one  else  should  do  any  deciding,  but  she  could  not 
afford  to  throw  away  the  opportunity  of  being  first  in  the 
confidence  of  one  whom  the  world  would  be  running  after 
before  long.  So  she  said: 

"I  don't  think  you  should  be  unforgiving,  my  dear;  it 
is  a  woman's  business  in  life  to  forgive,  you  know;  and 
since  he  is  willing  to  make  amends  you  should  let  him 
have  the  opportunity  to  prove  his  repentance.  Besides,  the 
only  place  for  one  about  to  become  a  mother  is  by  the  father 
of  her  child."  She  drew  herself  up  as  she  ended,  feeling 
that  she  had  delivered  the  world's  verdict  very  well.  Bertha 
felt  it  also,  and  she  nodded  slowly  as  she  turned  away. 

It  was  useless  to  point  out  that  the  writer  of  this  letter 
had  no  more  idea  of  repentance  than  he  had  of  heaven, 
that  all  he  sought  was  to  please  himself;  such  considera- 
tions were  nothing  to  Mrs.  Endicott,  or  to  the  world. 
They  looked  at  things  only  in  the  crude  outline  which 
stereotyped  a  law  to  cover  a  million  different  cases.  The 


78  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

,/ 

world's  idea  of  marriage  was  that  a  man  and  woman  should 
live  together  before  society,  no  matter  what  happened  in 
private.  It  was  considered  much  less  of  a  sin  to  be  the 
wife  of  a  man  you  scorn  and  abhor  than  to  lead  a  clean, 
useful  life  openly,  as  the  mother  of  a  child  who  has  no 
recognized  father. 

But  the  child.  She  let  herself  fall  into  a  chair,  the 
spring  of  hope  suddenly  crushed  low,  her  head  drooping 
on  her  folded  arms  like  a  bruised  flower.  Her  soul  crawled 
within  her  at  the  thought  of  going  back,  but  there  was  the 
child:  at  all  costs,  it  must  be  saved  from  the  savage  world's 
contumely. 

She  made  no  reply  to  the  letter,  merely  thanking  Mr. 
Harrison  for  its  delivery.  About  a  week  later,  she  was  not 
surprised  as  she  came  in  when  the  servant  told  her  in  an 
excited  whisper  that  her  husband  was  waiting  upstairs. 

She  stopped  a  moment  to  drink  a  glass  of  water  and 
make  quite  sure  of  her  coolness;  then  she  went  slowly  to 
her  room.  Tom  Colton  was  lying  on  her  bed,  his  shoes 
soiling  her  clean  coverlid,  asleep  and  snoring.  Her  whole 
being  rose  in  revolt  as  she  stood  a  moment,  her  hand  on 
the  knob,  looking  in;  then  she  closed  the  door  between 
them,  relieved  to  shut  the  sight  of  him  away  even  for  an 
instant,  and  crossed  the  hall  to  a  court-window.  But  he 
had  wakened,  and  in  a  second  looked  out  eagerly. 

"Come  in,  come  in !"  he  cried  as  soon  as  he  caught  sight 
of  her.  "I've  been  waiting  for  you  a  deuced  long  time, 
but  here  you  are  now,  and  it's  all  right." 

She  turned  from  the  window  and,  by  the  dull  light,  for 
a  full  minute,  looked  him  in  the  face — her  future;  then, 
making  a  mighty  effort,  she  moved  slowly  forward.  Im- 
patient, he  strode  toward  her,  but  she  avoided  him,  and 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  79 

entered  the  room,  her  head  high.  He  followed  and  closed 
the  door. 

"Why  don't  you  give  me  a  welcome?"  he  said  then,  open- 
ing his  arms  and  drinking  in  the  sight  of  her  with  pas- 
sionate thirst.  She  ignored  him  with  a  shudder.  "Oh, 
come,  don't  be  hoityrtoity,"  he  said,  his  arms  collapsing, 
as  she  poked  and  raked  the  fire,  her  back  to  him.  "But 
I  suppose  you've  got  your  pride  up,  and  want  me  to  make 
love  to  you  all  over  again.  Well,  I'm  willing."  He  came 
nearer,  ready  to  seize  her. 

"Stand  back!"  she  commanded,  wheeling  upon  him,  and 
looking  him  straight  in  the  eyes  as  she  might  a  wild  'animal 
she  meant  to  quell.  "None  of  that.  You  have  deceived 
me,  and  insulted  me,  and  deserted  me;  you  will  find  it 
hard  to  make  your  peace."  She  spoke  with  slow  emphasis 
in  a  deeper  tone  than  he  had  ever  heard  her  use. 

They  stood  thus  motionless,  eye  to  eye;  he,  held,  as  if 
in  a  vise,  by  her  will.  Then  she  designated  a  chair,  into 
which  he  dropped,  grumbling  inarticulately.  She  seated 
herself  not  far  away,  wishing  him  to  understand  that  she 
relied  entirely  on  herself  to  keep  him  at  a  distance.  She 
took  off  her  hat,  and  stroked  the  feathers  into  place,  while 
he  watched  every  motion  greedily. 

"You're  a  deuced  handsome  woman,"  he  broke  out  pres- 
ently, edging  his  chair  nearer;  "you're  a  deal  handsomer 
than  when  I  left  you.  What  have  you  done  to  yourself?" 

"I  have  lived  a  life  of  peace  and  content,"  she  answered 
briefly,  her  eyes  on  her  hat. 

"Well,  you've  done  splendid,  and  made  me  proud  of 
you,  my  dear.  Old  Harrison,  who  took  it  on  himself  to 
blow  me  up  about  you" — he  gave  an  amused  chuckle — "he 
told  me  you'd  been  as  steady  as  a  rock.  That's  a  big  mark 
to  your  credit,  my  beauty." 


80  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  in  a  tone  that  cut  even  his  sen- 
sibilities. He  moved  uneasily. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  say  I  didn't  abuse  you,  but  to  tell  the  truth 
I  dassent  stay  with  you.  I  was  afraid  I'd  get  so  I  couMn't 
stay  away.  It  looks  as  if  I  did  anyhow,"  he  added,  sheep- 
ishly. "You'd  laugh  to  know  how  many  times  I've  had 
to  handcuff  myself  to  keep  away  from  you.  I  hate  to  be 
burdened  with  a  woman,  and  I've  just  avoided  Chicago; 
but  at  last  I  determined  I'd  see  you  no  matter  what  hap- 
pened. So  here  I  am,  and  we'll  forget  all  about  the  rest 
of  it,  and  live  happy  ever  after."  He  guffawed  with  awk- 
ward hilarity  and  hitched  his  chair  nearer.  She  stopped 
him  with  a  glance. 

"7  shan't  forget  it,"  said  she. 

"Nonsense!"  he  cried,  throwing  himself  back  in  his 
chair  and  teetering  it  on  its  hind  legs.  "That's  what 
women  are  for,  to  forgive  and  forget."  He  got  up  rest- 
lessly and  leaned  his  back  against  the  mantel,  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  looking  down  at  her.  He  loved  her  as  much 
as  he  was  capable  of  loving  anything,  and  underneath  his 
passionate  desire — hidden  far  within,  as  seed  in  a  coarse 
fruit — was  a  kernel  of  something  finer,  more  potent.  "I'll 
make  you  such  a  good  husband,  you'll  call  me  a  model 
presently,"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone  with  only  a  half 
laugh. 

"You'll  have  to  change  very  much  first,"  she  commented 
icily. 

"  Oh,  come  now ;  don't  be  too  hard  on  a  fellow.  I  knew 
your  pride  was  up  when  I  didn't  hear  from  you,  and  I've 
come  with  the  best  intentions.  What  are  these  changes 
you're  after?  What  do  you  want?" 

She  would  like  to  have  said  that  to  be  let  alone  was  all 
her  desire;  a  while  ago  she  would  have  done  so  with  a 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  81 

vengeance ;  but  the  child.  She  kept  silence  so  long  that  he 
took  up  the  word  again. 

"You  shall  have  a  house,  and  servants,  and  fine 
clothes " 

"I've  heard  all  that  before,"  she  interrupted  him  wear- 
il}r.  "The  result  doesn't  give  such  promises  any  value." 

"I  know,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "I  told  you  a  string  of 
yarns  and  then  left  you;  but  I  shan't  do  that  again.  I've 
found  out  that  I  want  you,  and  I  mean  to  have  you." 

"Do  you?"  she  said  carelessly,  with  a  fleeting  smile.  Its 
security  playing  on  his  suspense  roused  him  to  sudden  fury. 
He  swore  a  great  oath,  and  taking  a  stride  bent  down 
close  over  her. 

"You've  got  to  come  back  to  me,"  he  hissed  in  her  ear. 
"I'm  your  husband,  remember  that." 

"That,  too,  is  an  old  story,  and  one  you  told  me  after- 
wards was  a  lie,"  she  said  coolly;  "you  should  have  a  bet- 
ter memory."  He  raised  his  hand  with  a  curse,  but  she 
looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  adding  in  a  different  tone : 
"Besides,  there  are  many  ways  of  ridding  oneself  even  of 
a  husband:  I  shan't  go  back  to  you  unless  I  choose." 

An  onlooker  might  have  thought  she  could  not  escape  a 
blow,  so  savage  did  he  appear  when  thus  defied;  but  her 
courage  and  self-confidence  did  not  quail  an  instant.  There 
were  indeed  many  ways  of  ridding  oneself  of  a  husband; 
she  felt  herself  capable  of  any  one  of  them. 

He  saw  it  and  veered  away,  indemnifying  himself  by  a 
stream  of  profanity  that  tired  the  ears.  She  got  up  feeling 
it  would  be  a  relief  to  stand.  A  woman  finds  herself  taken 
at  a  disadvantage  when  a  man  bends  close  above  her,  but 
even  then  she  had  triumphed.  She  went  to  the  mirror  and 
gave  some  touches  to  her  hair,  turning  her  head  now  this 
way,  now  that,  to  see  it  better.  He,  watching  her  cool 


82  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

movements,  forgot  his  curses,  and  after  a  silence  of  some 
minutes  began  again  in  quite  a  meek  tone. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  say,  Bertha?  What  are  you 
after?" 

"I  was  under  the  impression  that  you  sought  this  inter- 
view." 

"Why,  of  course  I  did.  I  must  have  you  back,  that's 
the  long  and  short  of  it.  I  love  you,  Bertha.  I  must  have 

you.  I  shall  have  you "  And  he  started  toward  her 

again. 

But  she  drew  herself  to  the  full  height  of  her  stately 
figure,  and  there  was  a  royal  womanhood  about  her.  Her 
abundant  hair  shone  like  a  coronet  of  bronzed  gold;  her 
fair  face  was  tense  and  stern ;  her  eyes  narrowed  to  a  dan- 
gerous blade  of  light  as  she  said  with  the  most  distinct 
utterance : 

"You  will  not  have  me  until  you  have  fulfilled  my  de- 
mands." 

For  a  whole  minute  after  she  had  spoken  they  looked'at 
one  another,  will  against  will.  Finally  he  straightened 
himself  with  a  long  inhalation,  muttering:  "Damn  it,  but 
you're  a  fine  woman !"  Then  raising  his  voice  he  said  with 
urgency:  "Well,  well,  let's  have  'em,  these  demands;  what 
are  they?" 

She  made  no  haste  in  replying,  and  he  stood  before  her, 
opening  and  shutting  his  hands  with  fierce  eagerness. 
When  she  spoke  it  was  with  quiet  emphasis : 

"You  would  have  to  give  me  kindness  and  freedom. 
You  would  have  to  let  me  guide  my  own  life.  In  the 
house  that  you  provide  you  would  have  to  let  me  choose 
who  should  enter." 

He  nodded  eagerly  at  every  claim.  All  this  was  easy 
enough.  His  spirits  rose  as  he  thought  she  could  be  de- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  83 

coyed  by  well-painted  promises  which  it  would  cost  him 
nothing  to  decorate. 

"Certainly,  certainly!"  he  cried.  "What  else  do  you 
expect?  It  shall  all  be  as  you  say.  Come  now,  say  we've 
made  it  up,  and  kiss  me."  He  threw  out  his  arms,  but  she 
still  held  him  aloof. 

"First  of  all,"  she  said,  in  a  ringing  tone,  "must  be  a 
strictly  legal  marriage,  with  the  certificate  in  my  posses- 
sion." 

"Well,  there  might  be  some  trouble  about  that,"  he  hesi- 
tated, looking  down,  and  kicking  the  carpet,  while  a  smile 
flickered  about  his  mustache.  "I'm  willing  all  right,  but, 
you  see — I've  a  wife  already  up  in  Canada." 

"Then  go  to  her  at  once!"  cried  Bertha,  turning  upon 
him  like  a  tigress,  her  eyes  ablaze,  the  full  surge  of  her 
abhorrence  of  him  let  loose.  "Leave  this  room!  Don't 
dare  come  near  me  again !  I'm  glad  you're  tied  to  some- 
one else  so  that  I'm  free  of  you.  Go !" 

She  was  magnificent  in  her  anger  and  disdain.  He  had 
fallen  back  involuntarily,  but  he  made  no  move  to  leave. 
Admiration,  the  power  of  her  personality,  her  sway  over 
him,  were  never  so  potent  as  at  that  moment.  He  must 
have  her  at  any  cost. 

"There,  there!  I  didn't  mean  to  raise  such  a  whirl- 
wind," he  began  awkwardly;  "let  me  explain.  Perhaps 
it  can  be  arranged  after  all."  He  looked  at  her  craftily 
where  she  stood  over  against  him,  her  figure  tense,  her  face 
a  mask  of  indignation. 

"It  can't  be  if  you  have  a  wife  in  Canada,"  she  said 
tersely. 

"Now,  don't  you  be  too  sure.  I've  a  wife  there,  true 
enough,  or  one  who  was  my  wife,  but  we're  divorced.  Ha, 
ha!" 


84 

"And  for  cause,  heaven  knows!"  ejaculated  Bertha, 
dropping  into  a  chair.  Release  was  not  so  easy,  her  rea- 
eon  still  held  good.  She  tried  to  grasp  it  again  firmly 
enough  to  subdue  her  detestation.  "You're  such  a  liar!" 
she  groaned  at  length,  "how  am  I  to  know  what  to  be- 
lieve?" She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  a  deadly 
sickness  coming  over  her;  she  felt  as  if  sinking  into  a  bot- 
tomless morass. 

"You  can  believe  every  word  I  say,"  proclaimed  her 
veracious  companion.  "It's  gospel  truth,  I  tell  you.  I 
was  married  for  three  years  up  there ;  that's  where  I  learned 
to  hate  a  wife,  and  Lizzie  to  hate  a  husband,  I  guess. 
Anyhow,  we  were  divorced  a  year  ago.  She  was  stupid  and 
silly,  nothing  like  you.  I  tell  you,  Bertha,  I'm  willing  to 
do  anything  you  want  me  to.  I'll  even  marry  again,  though 
I  swore  I  never  would;  but  there's  something  about  you 
I  can't  get  along  without."  He  drew  near  and  put  his 
heavy  hand  on  her  shoulder;  she  did  not  move.  "I  know 
I've  abused  you,  dear,  but  I  really  mean  to  try  and  make 
it  up  to  you.  I'll  be  as  kind  and  gentle  as  I  know  how." 
There  was  a  rough  softness  in  his  voice.  "I'm  not  all 
bad ;  try  me  again  and  see.  I  love  you,  Bertha,  as  I  never 
began  to  love  any  woman.  I'll  marry  you  to-morrow,  if 
you  say  so,  and  we'll  live  together  like  a  pair  of  turtle- 
doves. Come,  say  you  will,  my  beauty " 

She  shook  off  his  hand  and  rose  wearily,  her  eyes  deep- 
sunk  and  darkly  circled. 

"You  can't  take  me  in  with  talk  now,"  she  said;  "I 
know  too  much,  I  know  you  too  well.  Give  me  the  name 
and  address  of  that  divorced  wife  of  yours,  and  I  will  have 
a  lawyer  investigate  it,  and  then — we'll  see." 

From  this  point  she  would  not  be  moved.  She  would 
have  what  she  demanded,  neither  more  nor  less,  and  he 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  85 

finally  went  away,  balked,  but  set  upon  his  end  in  the  blind 
unreasoning  fury  with  which  waves  drive  upon  the  beach. 

Then  Bertha  sunk  into  a  chair,  trembling  like  a  leaf. 
Her  teeth  chattered,  her  knees  shook  together;  it  was  the 
reaction  from  her  intense  self-mastery.  If  that  marriage 
in  Canada  would  only  prove  valid  so  that  she  could  be 
free!  But  then,  the  child!  Suddenly,  by  the  dramatic 
law  of  antithesis  to  which  the  mind  is  often  subject  in 
hours  of  excitement,  she  saw  herself  driving  quietly 
through  the  mellow  Thanksgiving  weather,  beside  Mr. 
Grey,  and  heard  him  say:  "Hold  your  soul  as  you  would 
your  breath  under  water,  and  presently  the  waves  of  pas- 
sion and  despair  will  roll  away  and  leave  you,  half-drowned, 
perhaps,  but  alive,  and  your  own." 

Alas,  she  would  never  be  her  own  again.  She  had  been 
swept  away  from  all  that  Mr.  Grey  thought  desirable  and 
good,  and  she  could  never  return;  her  life  was  lost,  lost, 
lost;  and  she  wept  piteously. 


CHAPTEB  .VIII 

IT  was  two  years  after  they  parted  before  Bertha  and 
Grey,  now  a  general,  met  again.  He  had  been  continually 
in  active  service,  and  had  spent  his  time  either  at  the  front, 
or  taking  hurried  journeys  to  Washington  or  New  York, 
trying  to  serve  more  wholly  the  country  to  which  he  was 
devoted  body  and  soul.  Now  a  wound  gave  him  pause, 
and  in  that  pause  he  determined  to  see  Bertha.  He  sought 
her  out  with  great  interest  and  some  hesitancy.  He  found 
hardly  credible  in  her  surprising  reputation  the  child  or 
even  the  girl  he  had  known,  and  yet  he  had  always  fore- 
told great  things  for  her.  What  sort  of  a  husband  was 
this  man  with  whom  she  had  run  away,  and  why  had  she 
done  that?  Why,  too,  had  she  cut  off  all  communication 
with  him,  her  friend  of  ancient  date,  not  replying  to  any 
of  the  letters  he  had  sent  again,  and  yet  again?  Would 
she  consider  his  coming  an  intrusion?  That  she  had  called 
the  old  folk  to  her,  a  fact  he  had  learned  in  the  village, 
caused  him  to  realize  that  she  was  still  Bertha,  the  faithful 
affectionate  nature  he  had  always  found  so  docile.  How 
should  he  find  it  now? 

These  were  his  questionings  as  he  stood  at  her  door,  and 
was  presently  ushered  into  her  luxurious  parlor.  He 
looked  about  with  lively  curiosity,  for  Ehis  was  Bertha's 
home,  and  he  saw  at  once  that  it  was  eloquent  of  her. 
Every  corner  betokened  her  presence;  scattered  here  and 
there  he  recognized  things  she  had  had  from  the  first  hav- 

86 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  87 

ing  of  anything,  for  she  always  carried  with  her  what  she 
possessed.  Now  obviously  plenty  of  means  were  at  her  dis- 
posal. The  furniture  was  effective  and  abundant,  the 
chairs  were  deep-springed  and  softly  cushioned ;  there  were 
flowers  in  many  places,  not  all  very  fresh,  but  fragrant  and 
graceful.  Books  were  strewn  in  every  direction,  and  were 
of  every  kind,  from  French  novels  to  abolition  lectues  and 
the  latest  scientific  theory — ah,  there  was  evidence  of  the 
insatiable  mind  he  knew!  On  the  walls  were  many  pic- 
tures, some  tawdry,  some  excellent,  all  with  an  idea  to  pre- 
sent, and  that  idea,  in  versatile  forms,  was  ever  life — never 
still-life,  but  life  in  action,  the  living  interest.  Nor  were 
statues  absent.  In  front  of  plush  curtains  that  draped  a 
bay  window  stood  forth  Mercury,  atiptoe  on  the  breath  of 
earth,  springing  upward  from  the  slightest  contact  to  the 
highest  reach.  At  the  other  end  of  the  room  poised  on  a 
bookcase,  as  if  just  alighted  from  far  flight,  was  the 
Winged  Victory.  These  two,  both  in  plaster  of  course,  were 
the  only  white  objects;  and  amid  the  multicolored  sur- 
roundings, enriched  by  the  gleam  of  brass  and  the  sheen  of 
gilt,  they  were  dominant,  characteristic. 

He  turned  as  he  heard  a  footstep  on  the  stair,  from  sur- 
vey of  the  setting  to  the  life  here  set.  Bertha  entered,  he 
saw,  and  she  triumphed.  She  had  every  charm,  and  he  felt 
even  in  the  first  moment  of  delight  in  her  beauty  that  she 
would  have  attracted  almost  as  much  without  any,  so 
potent  was  the  magic  of  her  personality.  She  approached 
him  with  the  buoyant  lightness  of  step  he  well  remem- 
bered, her  tall,  rounded  figure  supple  with  life,  her  shapely 
head,  crowned  with  tawny  hair,  poised  like  a  flower  on  its 
etem,  and  her  face  aglow  with  welcome. 

"My  dear,  dear  guardian!"  she  exclaimed,  holding  out 
both  hands.  "At  last  we  meet!" 


88  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"At  last,"  He  answered,  and  the  dear  voice,  strangely 
familiar,  made  her  tremble.  "It  has  been  far  longer  than 
I  wished  since  we  parted,  but  now — the  present  indemni- 
fies me  for  what  I  have  missed." 

He  looked  into  the  clear  depths  of  her  truthful  eyes,  and 
his  own  sustained  the  impact.  The  amazing  force  of  life 
in  her,  so  striking  in  childhood — which  had  been,  indeed, 
like  a  clash  of  cymbals  when  she  dropped  from  her  tree  to 
his  side — remained,  nay,  had  grown,  as  all  living  things 
must.  She  lived  as  fully  as  ever,  he  could  see,  but  now 
she  had  a  larger  scope.  He  had  taken  blame  to  himself 
tfor  her  rash  conduct — might  he  not  somehow  have  pre- 
vented it? — but  now  he  saw  that  blame  was  quite  beside 
the  mark;  the  actual  was  best. 

Could  it  be  but  two  years  since  he  had  bidden  her  good- 
bye in  the  little  seminary  town  when  she  had  been  so  loath 
to  let  her  only  friend  go  from  her  ?  Yes,  only  a  little  over 
two  years ;  yet  here  she  was  in  the  midst  of  a  fast-growing 
city,  the  mistress  of  a  pleasant  home,  a  power  in  society, 
as  he  had  learned,  the  advocate  of  noble  causes,  in  full 
regalia  of  beauty  that  surpassed  his  greatest  expectation, 
and  panoplied  with  the  dominion  that  was  her  right. 
Every  fear  fled  away  in  the  light  of  her  countenance. 

She  rejoiced  in  the  effect  she  produced.  It  was  to  seize 
this  first  fresh  impression  that  of  late  she  still  left  his 
letters  unanswered.  To  a  childlike  degree  she  continued 
to  regard  his  judgment  as  the  criterion  by  which  she  must 
stand  or  fall.  If  he  approved,  she  was  happy;  if  not, 
miserable. 

But  a  few  moments  were  they  alone  together,  yet 
a  period  long  enough  to  tie  fast  the  slack  bonds  never 
broken  between  them,  when  a  tall  man  with  a  powerful 
frame  lurched  into  the  parlor,  scowling  suspiciously  as  he 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  89 

approached  them,  his  heavy  face  flushed,  his  small  eyes 
hloodshot.  Bertha's  shoulders  bent  as  if  a  physical  weight 
were  put  upon  them  when  he  entered,  and  her  lips  tight- 
ened as  she  said,  formally: 

"General  Grey,  permit  me  to  introduce  my  husband, 
Mr.  Colton.  This  is  my  guardian,  Tom,  of  whose  good- 
ness to  me  I  have  often  told  you." 

As  the  two  men  shook  hands  and  measured  one  another, 
finding  nothing  congenial,  she  realized  how  much  army 
life  had  brought  out  Mr.  Grey.  Clad  in  dark,  simple  uni- 
form, the  star  on  his  shoulder-strap  the  only  sign  of  rank, 
he  was  plainly  the  general.  Sunburned,  scarred,  hair 
blanched  at  the  temples,  with  the  authoritative  mien  of 
one  in  command,  to  her  eyes  he  was  simply  the  hero. 

To  look  from  him  to  Colton,  the  man  who  had  become 
her  husband,  made  her  heart  beat  thick  with  shame,  and 
her  head  droop.  Blotched,  bloated,  bald,  unsightly,  Colton 
betrayed  himself  in  every  feature,  and  made  Bertha's 
draught  of  humiliation  almost  insufferable.  But  General 
Grey  was  viewing  the  situation  from  quite  a  different 
standpoint.  \His  chief  emotion,  submerging  all  else,  was 
a  profound  pity  for  Bertha:  that  she  should  be  an  ap- 
pendage to  this  man ! 

It  was  easy  to  see,  in  fact  it  was  impossible  to  ignore, 
that  Colton  was  violently  jealous  of  his  wife,  and  that  a 
new  presence  in  the  neighborhood  was  an  offense  almost 
beyond  his  endurance.  He  said  little,  but  he  hung  near, 
awkward  and  inhospitable.  Bertha  made  small  attempt  to 
draw  him  into  conversation,  but  neither  could  she  make  it 
float  free  of  his  rude  clutch;  and,  after  a  few  moments' 
abortive  effort,  she  excused  herself  to  call  Pa  and  Ma. 

They  came  in  presently,  close  together,  evidently  a  habit 
of  mutual  support  under  changed  conditions,  .their  thin, 


90  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

kindly  faces  eager  with  welcome  of  one  they  had  not  seen 
for  long,  but  whom  they  always  remembered  with  grateful 
affection.  General  Grey  went  forward  to  meet  them,  hands 
outstretched. 

"Dear  Pa  and  Ma !"  he  exclaimed,  taking  a  hand  of  each, 
and  smiling  on  them  with  warm  geniality.  "How  good 
it  is  to  meet  you  again ! — looking  so  well,  too.  I  see  Bertha 
takes  first-rate  care  of  you,  as  you  always  did  of  her." 

"Oh,  it's  no  nice  balance  of  benefits,  you  know  very 
well,"  cried  Bertha,  to  whom  gratitude  seemed  a  meager 
motive.  "I  simply  love  to  have  them  close  by,  and  they 
like  to  be  near  their  little  girl  again.  Tom  has  been  very 
good  about  taking  in  my  people/'  she  added,  turning  to  her 
husband  with  a  sunny  smile,  to  which  he  made  a  heavy 
effort  to  respond.  "He  and  Pa  have  fine  times  together, 
don't  you,  Pa'?  Men's  confidences,  you  know,  General 
Grey.  Don't  you  remember  how  you  and  Pa  used  to  go 
off  together  to  the  smoking-room  at  dear  old  Fernside,  and 
you  wouldn't  be  there  very  long  before  I'd  bob  up  be- 
tween you?  The  little  girl  had  lots  of  indulgence  those 
days,  and  what  didn't  come  quick  enough  to  suit  her,  she 
just  took;  that's  all." 

"I  remember  perfectly,"  said  Grey,  smiling  at  Bertha's 
arch  glance,  "how  you  danced  in  one  night,  when  Pa  and  I 
were  deep  in  some  calculations  over  books  spread  out  on 
the  library  table,  and  perched  yourself  coolly  on  top  of 
them,  like  a  big  bird,  and  told  us  we'd  been  at  that  long 
enough,  and  now  we  were  to  pay  attention  to  you." 

"Yes,  that's  just  what  she  was  always  saying,"  ejacu- 
lated Ma,  who  had  seated  herself  by  the  fire  and  looked 
up  from  the  grey  wool  socks  she  was  knitting  for  the  army. 
"She  always  wanted  to  be  paid  attention  to.  She  used  to 
beg  me  to  look  at  this,  and  to  hear  that,  and  to  smell  some- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  91 

thing  else,  until  I  was  nigh  crazy.  Tell  the  truth,  I  never 
knew  what  to  do  with  the  child,  and  after  you  put  her  in 
the  seminary,  Mr.  Grey,  there  warn't  no  use  trying.  She 
just  streaked  up  out  of  sight,  and  now — my!  I  can't  see 
the  top  of  her !" 

Bertha,  with  a  laugh,  bent  her  tall  head,  crowned  with 
thick  braids,  before  the  old  woman's  affectionate  eyes, 
saying : 

"Look;  it's  just  what  it  used  to  be,  Ma,  when  you  had 
such  a  time  getting  the  snarls  out  of  my  hair,  and  the 
quirks  out  of  my  brain.  It'll  never  leave  you  behind,  dear 
old  Ma,"  and  she  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss.  "I'm.  all  of  a 
piece,  and  nothing  will  ever  alter  that  fact.  You  couldn't 
make  the  starch  stiff  enough  to  stay  in  my  clothes,  and 
nobody  ever  can.  I  know  I've  been  different  from  others 
in  that,"  she  went  on,  addressing  herself  more  directly  to 
General  Grey.  "Nearly  all  women  are  trussed  and 
cramped,  but  I  never  could  be  put  into  buckram.  Ma  had 
to  give  up  and  let  my  things  hang  limp.  I  couldn't  live 
a  trussed  life;  I  must  be  myself  or  nothing.  I  must  re- 
strain myself,  or  go  unrestrained.  It's  no  use  trying  to 
make  a  mold  for  me.  I  am  not  to  be  molded;  I  mold!" 
She  straightened  herself,  and  looked  her  listener  straight 
in  the  eyes  with  a  regal  air;  an  air  of  dominion  over  her- 
self no  less  than  over  others.  Grey  listened  engrossed. 

People  came  in  presently,  and  he  observed  in  what  an 
easy  and  gracious  fashion  Bertha  sheltered  the  old  folk, 
blotting  out  their  social  deficiencies  as  the  sun  blots  out 
its  spots.  They  were  identified  with  her;  she  expected  her 
friends  to  take  them  as  they  took  her,  and  her  expecta- 
tion was  so  spontaneous  that  it  found  ready  fulfilment. 
Their  lives  gained  luster  from  her,  while  for  them  she  was 


92  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

an  embodied  romance,  a  living  poem,  and  one  astonishingly 
alive. 

Yet  even  she  failed  to  make  her  husband  pass  cur- 
rent. She  could  do  a  good  deal  with  him  in  various  ways, 
but  he  provided  not  even  a  scant  amount  of  the  material 
on  which  a  miracle  can  be  wrought.  The  more  General 
Grey  surveyed  him,  the  deeper  became  his  sympathy  for 
Bertha.  He  said  something  of  the  sort  to  Pa  when  they 
happened  to  be  standing  together  a  little  apart  from  the 
enchanted  circle  around  her. 

"Yes,  it's  pretty  hard  on  Bertie,"  admitted  Pa,  turning 
his  back  on  what  he  had  seen  often,  and  been  hurt  in  the 
seeing;  "but  we  oughtn't  to  blame  him  harshly,  because, 
you  see,  he's  got  such  a  terrible  jealous  demon  in  him. 
Why  sometimes,  Mr.  Grey,"  (he  couldn't  twist  his  tongue 
to  General,  and  it  made  no  difference),  "when  I  see  him  in 
one  of  his  rages,  I  can't  help  thinking  of  those  poor  crea- 
tures possessed  by  devils  in  Scripture.  I  know  Ma's 
right  when  she  says  that  Satan's  always  at  the  elbow  of 
every  one  of  us;  but  to  some  he's  just  a  little  hump  sit- 
ting on  the  fence  watching  for  a  chance,  while  to  others 
he's  a  great,  roaring  fiend  with  flame  in  his  breath  and 
lightning  in  his  eye.  Now  that's  the  way  it  is  witb  Mr. 
Colton,  and  I'm  afraid  Bertie  ain't  apt  to  let  the  fiend 
drowse  off.  Not  that  she  does  anything  wrong,"  he  made 
haste  to  add,  "but  she  just  will  live  out  her  life,  whatever 
the  consequences." 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  she,  so  long  as  she  doesn't  do  any- 
thing wrong?"  inquired  General  Grey  with  some  warmth. 
"I  don't  think  he  deserves  very  delicate  consideration  at 
her  hands.  It's  an  outrage  to  think  that  a  woman  of  her 
splendid  quality  should  be  subject  to  such  a  man  as  he." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  said  Pa,  speculatively.    "He 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  93 

knows  she's  far  and  away  ahead  of  him,  that  he  can't  ever 
hope  to  keep  up  with  her,  and  she  doesn't  bend  her  head 
to  him  as  she  did  just  now  to  Ma,"  he  added,  with  tender 
appreciation  in  his  face.  He  paused  a  moment,  that  gentle 
gleam  still  in  his  eyes;  then  he  brought  his  mind  back. 
"It  makes  a  pretty  sorry  fix,  for  he  loves  her  desperately, 
Mr.  Grey.  Tell  the  truth,  while  sometimes  my  heart's  just 
wrung  for  Bertie,  all  the  time  I'm  sorrier  for  him." 

"Well,  I  think  you're  very  magnanimous,  Pa,"  said  Gen- 
eral Grey,  watching  Bertha,  who,  wherever  she  was,  made 
the  center  of  the  picture,  with  Mr.  Colton  a  dark  shadow 
to  set  off  her  brightness.  "I'm  sure  I  shouldn't  be  so  mild 
in  judgment  if  I  were  where  I  saw  this  going  on  month, 
in  and  month  out."  He  frowned  and  his  face  set  sternly. 
"Why  doesn't  he  go  into  the  army?  I  wish  I  had  him 
there  to  put  him  through  some  stiff  drill.  It's  ridiculous 
to  be  jealous,  it  is  always  in  vain." 

"That's  a  fact,  but  it  doesn't  help  a  jealous  man,"  re- 
plied Pa,  shaking  his  grey,  shrewd  head.  "Passion  ain't 
good  at  reasoning;  it's  we  who've  got  cool  heads  can  use 
our  wits.  I've  thought  and  thought  during  the  past  year 
and  it  looks  to  me  thisaway:  A  jealous  man  considers 
his  wife  belongs  to  him,  just  as  if  she  were  a  house  or  a 
horse ;  but  a  person  ain't  that  sort  of  thing  at  all ;  what  else 
is  the  war  about?  No  man  has  any  right  to  hold  a  soul 
as  a  slave.  It's  only  love  can  by  rights  make  one  human 
being  yield  to  another;  and  love  belongs  to  a  man  just 
while  it's  given  to  him,  and  not  a  minute  longer;  for  it's 
a  gift,  don't  you  see?  a  free  gift,  or  it's  nothing.  Now, 
I'm  not  saying  that  duty  don't  have  its  place,  for  it  has, 
of  course,  and  Bertie  does  her's,  faithful.  She's  as  devoted 
a  mother  as  ever  was — it  scares  me  sometimes  to  see  how 
she  loves  little  Lois,  poor  child ! — and  she's  a  much  better 


9$  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

wife  than  Her  husband  deserves;  but,  you  know,  now,  Mr. 
Grey,  a  girl  like  our  Bertie  isn't  going  to  be  ordered 
round  by  anybody.  The  more  he  says  what  she  shall  and 
she  shan't  do,  the  less  attention  she  pays  to  him.  I'm  not 
blaming  her  for  that;  I'm  only  saying  it  don't  give  the 
demon  in  him  a  chance  for  the  least  bit  of  a  nap,"  and  the 
old  man  put  his  thin  fingers  over  his  lips  and  chuckled 
discreetly. 

Bertha  came  up  just  then  bringing  Mr.  Harrison,  the 
hotel  proprietor,  to  introduce  to  Mr.  Grey.  "He  helped 
me  at  a  crucial  hour,"  she  said,  standing  between  the  two 
men  for  a  moment  after  she  had  introduced  them,  as  a 
gorgeous  flower  stands  between  leaves.  "Tell  him  all  about 
it,  Mr.  Harrison ;  he  will  like  to  hear  your  version  of  what 
I've  been  through  since  the  time  he  knew  me  years  ago." 

General  Grey  watched  her  as  she  left  him  and  circled 
among  her  guests,  while  he  listened  to  the  tale  the  hotel- 
man  enthusiastically  related.  He  saw  that  the  world  was 
indeed  a  stage  to  her,  but  only  in  the  sense  of  living  her 
part.  Her  role  was  to  be  herself,  to  make  manifest  what 
she  was  now  and  now,  and  so  on  from  point  to  point.  To- 
day palpitated  with  her  life's  blood.  She  was  living  by 
the  world's  standard  now,  and  she  vitalized  it  wholly. 
Reality  was  the  very  substance  of  her  being.  To  seem  to 
be  what  one  is  not,  to  put  on  a  false  front,  and  plume 
oneself  on  having  that  recognized  as  fine  when  it  is  all 
sham — this  was  of  no  earthly  value  to  her ;  she  did  not  see 
how  it  could  be  to  any  one.  But  to  see  herself  reflected 
from  the  world  as  she  knew  herself  to  be,  and  have  that 
self  endorsed  by  the  world,  gave  her  firmness  and  validity. 

Later,  she  brought  up  two  men  who  for  some  time  had 
been  talking  rather  boisterously,  when  not  whispering, 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  95 

with  Tom  Colton  in  the  dining-room,  where  a  decanter  was 
soon  drained. 

"Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Jones  and  Mr.  McLean,  General 
Grey.  They  are  proud  to  have  the  opportunity  of  talking 
with  you,  and  you  may  like  to  hear  what  they  can  tell  you 
of  my  marriage;  they  were  witnesses  of  it,"  and  she  gave 
them  a  strange  look  of  mingled  contempt  and  security  as 
she  turned  away. 

It  left  them  in  a  somewhat  awkward  position,  but  Gen- 
eral Grey  soon  drew  from  them  the  tale  he  was  so  anxious 
to  learn. 

"Yes,"  said  McLean,  a  common,  underbred  fellow  who 
had  skilfully  evaded  army  service  and  thereby,  as  well  as 
in  other  ways,  gained  the  eye  of  a  trickster,  "we  witnessed 
Tom  Colton's  marriage.  We  didn't  know  it  at  the  time, 
either,  did  we,  Jones?"  and  he  slapped  his  companion  on 
the  back  with  a  guffaw.  Jones  was  of  the  follower  type, 
insecure  of  himself,  a  shifty-eyed,  dark-browed  man,  whom 
one  could  count  on  never  to  be  reliable  or  fair.  He  con- 
tented himself  now  with  a  nod  and  a  grunt.  "We'd  known 
Tom  for  years,  you  see,"  went  on  McLean,  turning  to  Gen- 
eral Grey  and  subduing  his  manner  in  obedience  to  the 
gentleman's  aspect;  "we  knew  he  was  up  to  lots  of  pranks, 
and  the  money  he  was  so  free  with  showed  he  thought 
more  of  this  one  than  common,  that's  all ;  but  he  got  caught 
all  right,  didn't  he,  Jones?  It  turned  out  the  traveler  at 
the  hotel  who  did  the  work  as  minister  was  just  what  he 
pretended  to  be;  he  had  a  right  to  marry  'em  as  tight 
and  fast  as  anybody.  So  there's  our  Tom,  married  in  spite 
of  himself.  We've  laughed  at  him  a  devilish  lot,  but  he 
don't  care.  He's  so  crazy  about  her  he'd  do  anything  to 
be  with  her;  and  a  husband  he  became  as  proper  as  any- 
body. Can't  say  it's  done  him  much  good,  though;  he's 


96  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

gone  down  hill  fast.  Fact  is,  she's  too  fine  for  him;  she 
whips  him  up  to  a  pace  he  can't  keep,  and  then  he  goes 
to  pieces.  She's  a  mighty  smart  woman  and  a  handsome, 
but  she's  not  the  wife  for  him,"  and  McLean  shook  his 
head  with  heavy  emphasis. 

"How  has  he  changed?"  asked  General  Grey,  who  dared 
not  trust  himself  in  any  comments  on  the  base  tale. 

"Oh,  he's  lost  all  his  good  humor,  and  come  to  be  devil- 
ish suspicious.  He's  jealous  of  everybody  that  takes  a 
squint  at  her;  lots  of  'em  do,  too;  who  can  help  it?  But 
just  look  at  him  now ;  ain't  it  enough  to  make  a  man  swear 
to  see  a  good  fellow  so  damned  foolish?" 

Grey  looked  and  saw  Tom  Colton  standing  near  his  wife, 
whose  high  head  and  well-carried  shoulders  drooped  again 
under  the  incubus  of  his  nearness;  but  it  was  evident  that 
Bertha's  presence  was  much  more  potent  to  him  than  his 
to  her.  He  was  watching  her  sullenly,  a  dull  fire  smolder- 
ing in  his  eyes,  every  line  of  his  face  and  figure  dejected 
yet  wrathful,  as  if  conscious  of  the  defeat  against  which 
be  rebelled.  He  glowered  at  the  men  talking  to  her,  bitter 
discontent  and  suspicion  envenoming  his  regard.  What  a 
wretched  plight  for  Bertha ! 

"He  seems  to  be  successful  in  business,  at  all  events," 
said  General  Grey,  turning  his  back  on  the  offensive  scene. 
"He  muet  keep  a  hand  on  himself  outside,  or  that  couldn't 
be." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  makes  money  fast  enough — wish  he'd  show 
me  the  trick — but  it  won't  last  long  if  he  goes  on  at  this 
rate.  He's  plumb  daft  about  his  wife,  just  can't  think  of 
anything  else.  Pretty  nigh  crazy,  I  say." 

"Any  danger  of  violence,  do  you  suppose?"  asked  Grey, 
somewhat  uneasy  in  view  of  the  disclosures  of  the  evening. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  McLean,  rather  drily;  "that's 


97 

t 

her  lookout.  It's  ticklish  work  carrying  around  oil  and 
flame  together,  you  know;  won't  take  much  to  make  fire- 
works of  'em.  But  I  guess  she  knows  what  she's  about." 

This  crude  judgment  Grey  came  to  confirm  in  the  days 
that  followed.  He  went  away  from  Bertha's  neighborhood 
only  to  return;  he  spent  all  that  was  left  of  his  furlough 
with  her.  He  found  her  intelligent  conversation,  her  warm 
sympathy  for  his  experience,  keenly  interesting;  it  was 
fascinating  to  make  acquaintance  with  this  new  being  who 
bore  the  old  name  of  Bertha,  and  whose  heart,  in  spite  of 
her  many  friends,  was  as  open  to  him  as  when  he  was  all 
she  had.  It  touched  him  deeply  to  find  his  place  unoccu- 
pied, sacred  to  him  in  simplicity  as  if  she  were  still  an 
ingenuous  girl  instead  of  the  brilliant  woman  of  the  world. 

The  mastery  she  had  of  the  world  was  the  greatest  mar- 
vel. She  had  appropriated  by  instinct  whatever  came  in 
her  way  that  goes  to  the  making  of  those  whom  the  world 
approves.  She  was  versatile,  adaptable,  wide-glancing,  and 
effective.  She  had  the  world  within  and  through  social 
affiliations  she  simply  came  into  outward  possession  of  what 
belonged  to  her,  using  it  as  one  uses  the  familiar  things 
of  home.  Every  gift  she  had  was  brought  into  play  and 
grew  by  exercise;  her  very  environment  received  the  im- 
print of  her  personality.  It  was  the  materialization  of 
that  aura  which  is  said  to  surround  each  one,  revealing 
his  individual  nature:  in  short,  she  made  visible  the  un- 
seen. So  strong  and  instinctive  was  this  power  in  her  that 
she  was  inclined  to  discredit  whatever  remained  unmani- 
fested ;  the  manifest  was  her  peculiar  realm. 

This  was  why  she  found  society  intoxicating.  Each  new 
person  was  a  possibility  of  unguessed  relations.  No  mat- 
ter how  brief  the  contact,  she  threw  herself  into  it  with, 
ardor  and  vivid  concentration.  Grey  renewed  his  convic- 


98  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

tion  that  no  one  ever  lived  to  the  degree  that  she  did. 
Where  most  people  have  hut  one  talent  for  living  (and  that 
is  frequently  folded  away  in  a  napkin)  she  had  ten;  nay, 
she  had  a  veritable  genius  for  life.  Wherever  the  present 
touched  her,  life  leaped  to  that  place,  answering  on  the  in- 
stant: Here  am  I;  and  it  was  there  not  in  part  but  alto- 
gether, strengthening  every  portion  and  moment  by  the 
entirety  of  its  presence. 

He  was  meditating  something  after  this  fashion  one  eve- 
ning when  she  had  an  unusual  cluster  of  people  about  her. 
They  were  brilliant  and  talented  folk  with  names  of  note ; 
chief  among  them  was  N.  P.  Willis,  acclaimed  by  many  as 
the  finest  of  contemporary  poets,  and  an  authority  on  so- 
cial usages  as  well.  Physically  he  was  conspicuous,  in  a 
somewhat  rough  era,  for  his  steel-engraving  appearance, 
precise  even  to  the  graceful  lovelock  on  his  forehead.  He 
had  already  attained  the  height  of  his  powers,  which  made 
a  prodigious  stir,  and  it  was  one  of  his  best  traits  that  he 
gave  prompt  praise  to  any  promising  beginner,  and  thus 
was  quick  to  applaud  Bertha  Colton. 

"Your  writings  attract  wide  attention,"  he  was  saying, 
as  she  listened  with  a  gratified  smile.  "There  is  a  vital 
quality,  a  thrill  of  experience,  an  uncommon  touch  to  what 
you  say,  that  makes  people  pay  attention.  Often  your 
words  take  us  by  surprise,  like  sunbeams  in  a  wood,  and 
we  greet  them  joyously.  It  is  a  happy  gift,  Mrs.  Colton, 
to  be  able  to  dissolve  the  trite  in  new  wine  of  the  spirit." 

"Ah,  yes,"  responded  Bertha,  "you  have  taught  us  that 
'It  is  godlike  to  unloose  the  spirit,  and  forget  yourself  in 
thought,  bending  a  pinion  for  the  deeper  sky/  Your  poem 
lifts  one  to  a  mountain  top  and  sets  one  face  to  face  with 
verity. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  99 

"  'The  soul  of  man 
Createth  its  own  destiny  of  power; 
And  as  the  trial  is  intenser  here, 
His  being  hath  a  nobler  strength  in  heaven/  K 

Her  eyes  were  deep  and  shining,  her  expression  up- 
lifted, as  she  lent  the  poet's  words  their  fullest  value.  Apt 
quotation,  which  is  the  deftest  praise,  was  ever  ready  on 
her  lips.  Essentially  a  hero-worshipper,  she  gave  tribute 
with  the  liveliest  grace  in  profuse  bounty.  Success,  attain- 
ment, was  of  colossal  importance  to  her  at  this  time,  and 
commendation  from  one  who  stood  among  the  highest,  in 
a  literary  and  social  sense,  was  a  draught  of  nectar;  she 
savored  every  drop.  Such  society  was  what  she  was  made 
for;  here  the  whole  seemed  complete.  But  the  whole  was 
never  complete  with  Bertha;  acquisition  was  but  the  stim- 
ulant of  new  desires. 

And,  indeed,  they  were  already  in  exercise.  Garrison, 
Wendell  Phillips,  Horace  Greely,  came  to  her  house,  at- 
tracted by  the  articles  she  wrote  on  the  subjects  to  which 
they  had  consecrated  their  lives.  She  was  impassioned  for 
great  ideas,  and  indefatigable  in  forwarding  their  victory. 
The  questions  brought  up  by  the  long  and  dreadful  struggle 
between  slavery  and  freedom,  she  studied  closely,  forming 
her  own  opinions  and  advancing  them  with  tact  and  power. 
Emancipation  must  be  had  at  any  hazard.  She  was  ablaze 
for  freedom,  freedom  to  possess  oneself,  to  have  at  least 
j  one's  own,  to  submit  the  closest  domestic  relations  to  no 
human  being.  She  wrote  glowingly  on  such  subjects  with 
pathos  derived  from  her  own  experience  and  with  indig- 
nant passion.  She  expressed  herself  soul  and  body  both. 
All  the  ease  and  charm  of  her  manner,  all  the  strength 
and  catholicity  of  her  spirit,  all  the  vital  force  of  her  in- 


100  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

tellectual  convictions,  came  forth  and  were  received  with 
applause.  The  cruel  lessons  of  life  had  taught  her  a  men- 
tal balance  and  steadiness  rarely  seen,  and  her  power  was 
akin  to  that  of  the  youthful  geniuses  history  has  most 
praised. 

Grey  saw  it  all,  for  she  engrossed  his  whole  attention  dur- 
ing this  visit;  others  were  mere  accessories  in  the  picture. 
His  interest  and  approval  were  infinitely  sweet  to  Bertha; 
how  could  they  fail  to  be  when  she  had  grown  up  under 
them,  thriven  through  their  grace,  and  now  met  them  again, 
more  abundantly,  more  on  an  equality  than  ever  before? 
Yet  it  was  deeply  indicative  of  her  character  that  before 
he  took  his  departure  for  the  front  she  could  not  refrain 
from  telling  him  the  inner  history  of  the  sorry  passes 
through  which  she  had  come  to  this  success.  He  shrunk 
a  little  from  the  directness  of  her  confidence,  but  he  lis- 
tened with  sympathy  and  she  was  not  one  to  hide  herself 
from  any  eyes  that  could  see  aright. 

"I  conformed  to  the  letter  of  the  law  because  of  my 
child,"  she  said,  leaning  far  over  the  table,  so  that  her  face 
was  nearly  horizontal  as  she  brought  to  bear  the  full  force 
of  her  personality  in  appeal  for  comprehension.  "I  alone 
know  what  it  cost  me.  I  am  a  martyr  to  what  is  nearest 
divine  within  me — mother-love.  Except  for  my  child,  ex- 
cept for  the  suffering  society  would  have  unjustly  entailed 
upon  her,  I  should  have  committed  the  grossest  sin  in 
returning  to  Tom  Colton,  feeling  as  I  did  toward  him, — 
feeling  as  I  do;  yet  society  would  have  said  it  was  my 
duty,  child  or  no  child;  why  shouldn't  I  despise  such  a 
standard  ?  You  told  me  to  learn  the  rules  of  the  game  be- 
fore I  tried  to  improve  upon  them.  Have  you  forgotten  ?" 
she  asked,  as  he  looked  up  startled.  "I  do  not  forget;  I 
have  lived  by  your  words  through  too  many  trials  not  to 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  101 

have  them  clear  within  me.     You  said  morals  were  like 
good  manners,  that  one  must  conform  to  the  world's  rules 
in  order  to  be  well-bred;  haven't  I  done  so?"     She  drew 
herself  up  proudly.    "Doesn't  the  world  know  me  for  one 
of  its  own?     Doesn't  it  even  follow  me  and  fawn  at  my 
feet?"    With  a  contemptuous  smile  she  ruffled  a  pile  of 
open  letters   lying  on  the  table   awaiting  her  pleasure. 
"When  I  had  mastered  all  the  rules  and  become  a  skilled 
player,  you  said  I  might  think  of  improvements.    'There  is 
where  the  chance  for  reformers  come  in/  you  suggested. 
Ah,  society  needs  reformation,  God  knows  it  does!"  she 
went  on,  pushing  back  her  chair  and  springing  up  to  pace 
the  room  as  was  her  habit  when  excited.     General  Grey 
watched  her  lissom  form  float  to  and  fro  with  pitying,  ad- 
miring eyes.    "To  act  thus  outrages  a  woman's  truest  in- 
tuitions.   The  empty  law  has  no  validity  but  an  arbitrary 
one;  it  is  a  dry  husk  without  a  kernel,  fit  only  for  swine. 
There  must  be  a  better  way.     The  world  needs  social  re- 
pentance.   The  arks  of  safety,  if  such  they  be,  the  family, 
society,  the  state,  the  church,  should  not  be  made  so  for- 
bidding and  grim  that  one  struggling  in  the  flood  dares  not 
approach  them.    On  the  contrary,  they  should  be  life-sav- 
ing stations  whence  men  would  put  forth  to  help  those  in 
danger;  not  the  fortress  of  hypocrites,  but  the  refuge  of 
the  weak.    There  are  people  living  in  this  thought  to-day, 
else  where  should  I  be?  for  you  would  not  have  helped 
me.     But  the  individual  is  far  better  than  society.     He 
would  do  right  if  he  were  let  alone,  but  society  tyrannizes 
over  him,  and  forces  him  to  do  wrong  as  it  did  me  to  save 
my  little  one.    'Oh,  it  is  excellent  to  have  a  giant's  strength, 
but  it  is  tyrannous  to  use  it  like  a  giant.' " 

She  looked  majestic  in  dignity  as  she  stopped  in  front  of 


102  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

him,  and  gave  these  words  the  full  emphasis  of  her  instinct 
for  freedom.  It  is  a  nohle  instinct,  humanity's  most  divine 
right.  It  is  what  raises  us  above  the  brute  and  makes  ns 
capable  of  being  sons  of  God.  Her  former  guardian  recog- 
nized it,  and  bowed  before  it.  She  whom  he  had  patronized 
and  who  had  been  through  such  fearful  trials,  had  passed 
far  beyond  his  tutelage.  In  the  teeth  of  clenched  an- 
tagonisms she  had  won  glory.  Despite  all,  she  was  in  line 
with  society,  its  leader  even,  and,  as  she  said,  it  did  in 
truth  need  regeneration.  Perhaps  she  was  the  one  chosen 
for  the  task,  a  modern  Joan  of  Arc,  who  would  emancipate, 
not  a  nation  merely,  but  institutional  life.  A  woman  who 
had  thus  wrought  her  own  career  from  tragedy  to  triumph 
might  achieve  anything.  He  got  to  his  feet  and  took  her 
hands. 

"Bertha,"  he  said  solemnly,  but  with  the  exultance  in 
his  tone  that  comes  with  the  prophecy  of  great  things; 
"go  forward  and  God  be  with  you.  It  is  not  in  vain  you 
have  suffered  and  conquered;  what  you  gain,  the  world 
gains;  for  you  see  that  it  is  not  a  question  of  pitting  the 
individual  against  the  world,  but  of  reaching  freedom  for 
all  by  building  it  into  the  structure  of  social  life.  This  is 
what  made  John  Brown  great :  he  saw  a  great  truth  which 
the  nation  did  not  recognize,  but  since  the  cause  to  which 
he  was  a  martyr  was  true,  he  drew  the  nation  to  him,  and 
in  the  end  will  emancipate  us  all  from  the  shame  of  slavery. 
So  may  you  set  right  what  is  wrong  by  seeing  social  truths 
clearly,  and  bringing  others  to  the  same  view.  You  will 
not  lack  followers  in  whatever  course  you  take.  Be  sure 
you  are  right,  and  then  lead  dauntlessly.  Heaven  bless 
you !" 

She  pressed  his  hands  while  tears  stood  in  the  eyes  with 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  103 

which  she  met  his,  soul  to  soul.  What  a  recognition! 
What  an  outlook!  He  had  found  her  a  woman  in  his 
world,  equal,  dominant,  and  paid  her  glad  tribute.  Then 
he  raised  her  above  the  heads  of  the  throng,  and  sent  her 
forward  with  face  lifted  to  the  skies. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AT  Mrs.  Endicott's  one  day,  shortly  after  Grey's  return 
to  his  command,  Bertha  met  Agnes  Sherwood,  a  tall,  slight, 
gray-eyed  girl,  with  a  small  head  and  delicate  complexion, 
whose  will  was  clearly  indicated  in  a  square  chin  and  the 
repressed  line  of  lips  determinately  turned  inwards.  She 
was  painfully  shy  and  gave  every  evidence  of  fear  in  the 
presence  of  the  notable  woman  whom  her  aunt  insisted  she 
should  meet,  but  Bertha  divined  that  she  had  brains,  and 
before  the  girl  knew  what  she  was  about  she  was  talking 
freely  in  a  burst  of  self-forgetful  enthusiasm.  The  subject 
was  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  and  the  human  beauty  of  char- 
acter in  the  hero  roused  her  to  a  fullness  of  expression  that 
astonished  her  aunt. 

"Another  miracle,  my  dear  Mrs.  Colton,"  she  said  gaily, 
though  in  a  low  tone,  as  the  niece,  with  flushed  cheeks, 
turned  to  some  other  guest.  "I  am  charmed  to  find  that 
Agnes  can  be  roused  from  her  social  lethargy.  I  couldn't 
dissipate  it,  try  as  I  would;  but  you  are  always  working 
wonders.  Here  I'm  quite  sure  you'll  get  your  effort's 
worth.  She's  a  bright  girl,  if  she'd  only  let  herself  go." 

"That  is  perfectly  obvious,"  replied  Mrs.  Colton,  watch- 
ing the  slim  form  clad  in  grey,  which  embodied  a  per- 
sonality she  found  singularly  attractive.  Mrs.  Endicott 
was  now  keeping  house  again,  and  in  the  small,  pretty  in- 
terior the  girl  was  the  essential  figure.  "What  has  made 
her  so  repressed?" 

104 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  105 

"Oh,  the  notions  of  her  parents,"  replied  Mrs.  Endicott 
with  some  irritated  emphasis.  "Sarah  Sherwood  is  a  New 
England  woman,  and  neither  she  nor  my  brother  ever 
praise,  so  that  Agnes  has  come  to  look  upon  herself  as 
faulty  in  every  detail,  and  blameless  in  none.  Of  course 
my  sister-in-law  considers  me  worldly  to  a  sinful  degree; 
but  I  simply  seized  Agnes  and  brought  her  out  of  that 
atmosphere  where  she  was  stifling.  I  shall  keep  her  here 
for  the  winter  with  me;  a  house  is  so  much  more  attrac- 
tive if  there's  a  young  person  in  it,  you  know.  I've  given 
her  air,  now  you  get  her  to  breathe,  Mrs.  Colton,  or  she'll 
be  a  dead  weight  on  my  hands." 

"She  has  plenty  of  lung-power,"  replied  Bertha  quietly. 
"It's  a  simple  matter  to  breathe  when  that  is  a  fact.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  know  her  better."  When  she  left  that  day, 
therefore,  she  carried  Agnes  Sherwood's  promise  to  come 
to  see  her  alone,  so  that  they  might  get  acquainted. 

The  girl  felt  an  almost  overpowering  timidity  as  she 
started  to  keep  her  appointment  with  the  writer  whose  repu- 
tation was  an  alarm,  however  winning  the  woman  might 
be;  but  she  went.  To  her  a  promise  was  more  coercive 
than  an  army  with  banners.  Had  the  heavens  fallen  to 
prevent  her  she  would  have  felt  a  poignant  self-reproach 
that  even  the  ultimate  catastrophe  could  make  her  break 
a  promise. 

She  was  shown  at  once  upstairs,  where  she  followed, 
her  heart  throbbing  high.  In  the  intimate  room  on  the 
second  floor,  Mrs.  Colton  was  at  her  table  writing,  books 
and  pages  strewn  about.  She  looked  up,  not  rising,  but 
with  a  bright  smile  of  welcome,  and  held  out  her  left  hand, 
the  right  poised  over  an  incomplete  sentence. 

"Take  off  your  things,  and  sit  down  by  the  fire,"  she 


106  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

said  cordially.  "You'll  excuse  me  for  a  minute,  won't 
you?  I'll  have  this  done  presently." 

Before  she  ended  her  pen  swooped  down  again  on  the 
paper,  and  Agnes  saw  she  was  forgotten.  Nothing  could 
have  pleased  her  better.  Her  excited  sensibilities  fluttered 
back  into  quiet.  She  drew  softly  to  the  fire,  placing  her- 
self so  that  she  could  take  in  a  picture  of  the  room  with 
its  mistress  as  the  high  light,  and  looked  about  her,  almost 
afraid  to  breathe  lest  she  should  awake.  What  a  dream 
was  this  to  come  true!  She  felt  as  if  she  were  living  a 
novel.  The  room  was  hung  with  chintz  and  swathed  with 
many  sets  of  curtains;  the  chairs  were  low  and  softly  up- 
holstered; there  was  a  confusion  of  bric-a-brac  in  a  dim, 
rich  light.  As  she  grew  accustomed  to  the  sensuous  at- 
mosphere, Agnes's  eye,  trained  to  severity  as  a  housekeeper, 
noticed  in  the  corners  drifts  of  dust,  and  even  cobwebs; 
but  she  ignored  them.  She  looked  upon  the  scene  as  a 
bit  of  foreign  life,  so  strange  was  it,  filled  to  overflowing 
with  things  of  every  sort,  luxurious,  trivial,  learned.  In 
the  center  stood  the  table  where  Mrs.  Colton  was  writing, 
everything  arranged  for  her  work,  even  to  the  vase  of 
flowers,  never  absent,  and  herself  in  perfect  array.  "I  like 
to  be  in  full  dress  when  I  write,"  she  would  say,  when 
others  expressed  the  need  of  being  at  ease  physically  in 
order  to  give  their  whole  attention  to  their  work.  "I  am 
most  at  ease  when  I  am  in  my  best  condition." 

Agnes  sat  entirely  still,  and  feasted  her  eyes  on  this 
radiant  being.  It  was  only  a  year  or  so  since  she  read  for 
the  first  time  a  novel,  and  never  should  she  forget  the  ex- 
perience. Novels  were  her  introduction  to  the  world,  and 
now  she  was  in  the  vitalizing  presence  of  a  woman  who 
surpassed  all  the  heroines  she  had  met  in  books.  Hair  of 
reddish  gold  was  combed  up  from  neck  and  ears,  and 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  107, 

massed  in  a  great  pile  on  the  top  of  the  head,  while  around 
the  forehead  it  fell  in  short  rings,  which  did  not  cover  the 
prominent  brow  nor  interfere  with  the  arched  eyebrows. 
The  perpendicular  profile  was  thrown  into  relief,  with  its 
straight  nose,  full  curved  lips  and  firm  chin — a  face  to 
meet  and  conquer  fate,  thought  the  girl.  The  mouth  espe- 
cially attracted  her:  the  sensuous  lips,  slightly  parted  and 
moving  now  and  then  to  form  the  words  she  was  writing, 
seemed  the  expression  of  a  joyous  nature,  free  and  un- 
trammeled.  It  was  a  marvel  to  the  repressed  girl  that  such 
a  mouth  could  be;  she  pondered  over  the  happy  life  that 
must  have  made  it;  an  early  marriage,  no  doubt,  to  the 
man  she  loved,  his  tender  care  of  her,  and  the  spontaneous 
development  of  a  rich  nature.  The  more  she  looked  the 
more  Bertha  took  possession  of  her  empty  existence,  filling 
the  aching  vacuum  around  her  soul  with  a  delicious  vitality. 

It  was  with  a  start  of  amazement,  as  if  a  mental  image 
suddenly  became  incorporate,  that  she  saw  Mrs.  Colton 
throw  down  her  pen,  and  smile  with  relief  and  satisfaction. 

"There;  that's  done,"  she  exclaimed,  "and  pretty  well 
done  too."  She  stretched  herself  a  moment  from  slippered 
feet  to  forehead,  with  the  physical  reaction  one  feels  in 
wakening.  Then,  rising,  she  went  directly  to  the  baby- 
carriage  in  the  corner  where  little  Lois  lay  asleep.  She 
turned  down  the  cover  and  looked  at  the  wan,  peaked  face 
with  a  fond  scrutiny  that  told  of  an  habitually  anxious 
heart. 

"Come  and  see  my  baby,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  and, 
as  Agnes  joined  her,  "isn't  she  a  dear?  See  how  long  her 
eyelashes  are!  She's  frail,  yes,  but  she's  such  a  love! 
Mother's  blessed  baby.  I  hardly  let  her  out  of  my  sight, 
for  fear  something  may  happen  to  her,  but  she  really  has 
a  good  deal  of  strength." 


108  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"Agnes  noted  the  child's  bluish  pallor,  the  skimmed-milk 
appearance  around  the  eyes,  the  pale  lips  and  blotched  com- 
plexion. It  was  remarkable  that  so  vigorous  a  mother 
should  have  such  a  puny  child,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
the  mother's  whole  heart  was  set  on  the  sorry  infant. 
Agnes  felt  a  welling-up  of  compassion  as  Mrs.  Colton 
tucked  in  the  child  again,  every  movement  a  caress,  and 
turned  away  reluctantly. 

She  drew  near  the  fire,  where  she  sunk  into  a  low  chair, 
holding  a  gaily  painted  screen  between  herself  and  the 
flames. 

"Well,"  said  she,  with  a  full  look  into  the  girl's  ab- 
sorbed, watchful  eyes,  "what  do  you  think  of  my  den? 
And  how  do  you  relish  being  treated  in  such  an  uncere- 
monious fashion  ?" 

"You  were  very  good  to  let  me  come  up,"  was  Agnes's 
soft  reply,  as  if  she  were  afraid  this  prismatic  bubble  might 
be  broken  by  a  breath.  "I  hope  I  did  not  disturb  you?" 

"You  helped  me,"  answered  Bertha,  with  a  sunny  smile 
that  unlocked  to  her  thawing  influence  new  recesses  of  her 
companion's  frozen  heart.  "I  was  conscious  of  you  all  the 
time  as  one  is  of  violets  in  the  room.  If  the  latter  part 
of  my  article  is  especially  good  you  will  know  why.  I  was 
not  made  to  be  alone,"  she  went  on,  rocking  slowly  to  and 
fro.  "I  like  to  feel  one  who  is  sympathetic  near  me  al- 
ways; and  I  believe  you  and  I  are  in  sympathy,  dear." 

The  starved  girl  blushed  with  delight.  That  endearing 
word  made  her  thrill  from  head  to  foot ;  but  she  found  no 
reply.  Bertha  withdrew  a  little,  having  learned  not  to 
overwhelm,  asking  in  a  lighter  tone : 

"Well,  how  does  Uncle  Tom  come  on?" 

"I  have  finished  it,"  said  the  girl,  eager  to  repair  her 
tongue-tied  lack  of  response,  and  with  a  tone  of  awe  in 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  109 

her  voice.  "Such  self-abnegation  I  never  dreamed  of.  No 
wonder  it  is  a  book  that  has  stirred  the  country.  There 
is  incalculable  power  in  perfect  self-sacrifice." 

"No  greater  than  in  noble  self-assertion,"  proclaimed 
Bertha  energetically.  "My  main  quarrel  with  the  negroes 
is  that  they  show  too  little  will.  Why  do  they  submit  to 
tyranny  ?  Better  die  a  thousand  deaths,  better  kill  a  thou- 
sand tyrants,  than  be  slaves.  Had  they  the  will  to  claim 
what  belongs  to  them,  they  would  never  have  been  outraged 
as  they  are." 

"But  they  were  so  ignorant  and  helpless  when  they  were 
captured  in  Africa,"  remonstrated  Agnes,  "and  since,  they 
have  had  everything  to  keep  them  down." 

"Nothing  can  keep  down  the  will  if  it  determines  to  be 
free!"  exclaimed  Bertha.  "Will  is  omnipotence,  child.  I 
have  yet  to  see  what  it  cannot  achieve.  All  else  must  suc- 
cumb when  a  strong  and  persistent  will  commands." 

Agnes  felt  as  if  she  were  facing  a  prophet  as  she  looked 
at  this  tall,  fair  woman,  erect  yet  pliant  in  her  pose  of 
pride,  and  the  soul  of  the  woman  became  apparent  to  her, 
regal,  effulgent.  She  felt  its  influence  in  every  particle  of 
herself;  the  very  clods  of  her  nature  stirred  with  life  and 
climbed  eagerly  toward  this  glorious  vision.  Hope's  edi- 
fice towered  before  her,  built,  completed,  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye,  for  had  not  the  oracle  declared  will  to  be 
omnipotent  ? 

But  promptly  to  her  burdened  mind  came  the  reaction, 
and  she  said  slowly:  "I  understand  that  perfectly,  when 
the  matter  is  something  one's  will  can  affect,  such  as  one's 
own  desires  or  actions,  but  when  it  conies  to  affecting 

others,  affecting  a  national  situation "  She  shook  her 

head. 

"That  is  just  where  a  strong  will  gets  its  leverage,"  in- 


110  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

terrupted  Bertha.  "I  have  no  use  for  the  exhaustion  of 
energy  within  the  straitjacket  of  yourself.  Leave  yourself 
alone;  or,  rather,  make  it  work  on  others;  that  is  worth 
while.  Make  the  world  conform  to  your  will,  make  it  take 
the  shape  of  your  desires;  that's  the  use  to  get  out  of  life, 
and  that  gives  you  the  gauge  of  the  value  of  will." 

She  met  and  held  the  girl's  eyes,  her  own  brimful  of 
energy,  hut  Agnes  was  far  from  passive.  There  was  no 
lack  of  will  in  her,  but  her  attitude  was  stoical.  In  a 
chaotic  world  she  knew  nothing  of  order  except  what  she 
could  command  in  her  own  soul ;  but  now  the  positive  cur- 
rent met  the  negative,  and  set  her  tingling. 

"I  begin  to  understand  what  you  said  the  other  day," 
she  murmured,  after  one  of  the  pregnant  silences  that  do 
more  to  make  a  friendship  than  any  amount  of  speech. 
"Books  don't  have  the  touch  and  feel  of  life;  once  aware  of 
that,  anything  less  seems  tame." 

"No  doubt,"  said  Bertha,  amused  and  touched,  but  not 
frightening  away  her  shy  bird  by  letting  her  feeling  be 
too  apparent:  seeming  indifference  is  often  the  most  deli- 
cate attention.  "It  is  like  living  in  a  world  of  shadows  to 
live  only  among  books.  You  put  out  your  hand  to  feel 
the  people  who  interest  you,  and  they  are  not  there.  But 
look  around  you,  and  you  see  reality  on  every  side.  Each 
human  being  is  the  center  of  his  own  universe;  put  your- 
self in  contact  with  him  and  you  get  his  point  of  view. 
Touch  people,  and  they  return  your  touch,  you  can  mold 
their  lives,  you  can  live  romance,  you  can  make  history. 
A  sensation  worth  having  is  just  to  feel  humanity;  to  be 
in  a  crowd,  sharing  its  enthusiasm,  enlarges  life;  to  domi- 
nate a  crowd,  that's  rapture!" 

She  leaned  forward  with  eyes  sparkling,  the  joy  she 
pictured  stirring  her  and  thrilling  through  her  companion ; 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  111 

when  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  the  door,  opening  it 
clumsily,  and  Mr.  Colton  came  in  with  an  unsteady  gait 
and  a  scowling  brow. 

"Who's  that?  What  are  you  doing  there?"  he  said 
roughly,  as  he  saw  the  two  figures  by  the  glow  of  the  fire. 
In  the  heavily  curtained  room  it  was  dusk.  "Damn  you! 
Why  can't  you  have  a  light?"  he  ejaculated,  stumbling 
over  a  stool  and  lurching  into  a  chair. 

His  wife  rose  and  the  horror-struck  Agnes  thought  her 
figure  majestic  in  its  calm  dignity.  "I  will  light  the  gas, 
and  then  you  will  see  I  have  a  friend  with  me,"  said 
Bertha. 

He  muttered  something  not  very  complimentary  to  the 
friend,  but  not  very  intelligible  either.  Agnes  sprung  to 
assist  her  hostess  and,  as  the  light  flared  up,  she  cast  one 
scrutinizing  look  at  the  odious  creature  who  had  replaced 
the  husband  she  had  imagined,  and  then  met  Mrs.  Col- 
ton's  glance,  a  surge  of  tenderness  and  compassion  in  her 
eyes.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  take  leave,  but  Bertha  said : 
"I  will  go  down  with  you,"  and  led  her  into  the  hall. 

"It  is  no  trouble,  it's  a  pleasure,  as  perhaps  you  may 
guess,"  she  added,  in  answer  to  Agnes's  murmur  not  to 
trouble  herself.  She  pulled  her  skirts  away  for  the  girl 
to  come  beside  her  on  the  stairs,  and  Agnes  effaced  herself 
eagerly  in  the  narrow  space.  "I  am  sorry  we  should  have 
been  disturbed,  for  I  had  promised  myself  a  long  chat  with 
you.  You  must  come  again,  and  soon.  This  is  a  bit  of 
life,  you  see,"  she  went  on  with  a  minor  note  in  her  clear 
voice.  "It's  not  ideal  at  all,  but  very  real;  and  it  is  a 
large  factor  to  me.  I  am  glad  for  you  to  know  it,  Agnes. 
I  should  like  you  to  know  me  as  I  am." 

They  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  she  turned 
and  held  out  her  hand.  There  was  something  almost 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

solemn  in  her  manner,  and  the  other  was  deeply  stirred. 
She  took  the  hand  between  both  of  hers,  which  were  small 
and  thin,  and  Bertha  felt  them  tremble. 

"I  need  a  friend,"  she  said  slowly.  "I  need  some  one 
I  can  trust  absolutely ;  and  you  need  some  one  to  open  your 
prison-doors;  shall  we  be  friends,  dear?" 

"Until  my  soul  dies !"  answered  the  girl  from  the  pro- 
foundest  depths. 

The  woman  put  her  arms  around  the  slight,  tense  figure 
and  kissed  her.  Agnes  went  forth  hallowed;  life  had 
begun  at  last. 

This  was  the  birth  of  a  friendship  that  exerted  an  in- 
calculable influence  on  both.  It  was  an  intensely  personal 
bond,  and  so  had  the  persistence  of  personality  which 
grows.  Agnes  was  ready  for  Bertha,  as  Bertha  had  been 
for  the  world;  the  larger  woman  became  the  world  to  the 
girl.  She  filled  her  full :  sense  and  mind  and  soul.  Decked 
in  the  richest  of  coloring,  she  was  to  the  impoverished  girl 
loveliness  incarnate.  Her  charm  had  a  sumptuous  quality 
which  not  only  gratified  all  those  with  whom  she  came  in 
contact,  but,  like  nature,  swarmed  with  an  inexhaustible 
supply  of  life.  Her  mental  caliber  was  equal  to  her 
physical,  but  the  personality  of  the  woman  overtopped  all. 

It  was  this  that  most  profoundly  affected  Agnes.  The 
integrity  of  the  girl's  soul  demanded  freedom, — freedom 
from  bonds  and  strictures  which  she  had  accepted  as  des- 
tiny all  her  life  and  that  tended  to  thwart  every  effort 
of  her  soul  to  grow.  Bertha  rescued  her  from  captivity, 
and  Agnes  came  forth  to  live  her  own  life,  but  chiefly 
to  follow  her  beautiful  deliverer.  Freedom  meant  less  to 
her  than  this  captivating  personality.  Her  parents  tried 
to  interfere  with  the  absorbing  friendship,  but  they  found 
a  new  will  in  Agnes  which  would  not  allow  them  to  detach 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  113 

or  attach  her  where  they  chose,  and  Mrs.  Endicott  sup- 
ported the  girl. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  her,"  she  said 
to  Mrs.  Sherwood,  who  had  come  to  town  to  carry  Agnes 
away.  "The  girl  needs  to  be  taken  out  of  herself,  and 
Mrs.  Colton  is  the  one  to  do  it.  You  may  feel  flattered 
that  her  attention  has  been  attracted.  She  is  a  power  al- 
ready, and  she  is  going  to  be  greater,  for  she  has  a  towering 
ambition.  Don't  rob  Agnes  of  such  a  chance;  leave  her 
here  with  me ;  you'll  see  she'll  come  to  no  harm.  I  know 
what  I'm  about." 

Bather  helpless  before  this  worldly  acumen,  Mrs.  Sher- 
wood reluctantly  succumbed.  It  was  really  futile  to  try  to 
do  otherwise,  in  view  of  her  daughter's  resolution.  Agnes 
had  a  way,  seldom  used,  of  saying  "No,"  that  her  mother 
knew  meant  plain  No.  One  might  as  well  desist  soon  as 
late  from  combating  it.  So  she  went  away  with  tightly 
pursed  lips,  shaking  her  head  a  little;  but  she  left  Mrs. 
Endicott  well  satisfied.  To  have  her  niece  form  a  close 
friendship  with  the  rising  star  meant  light  for  the  aunt. 
Mrs.  Colton  was  gaining  brilliance  at  a  rate  Mrs.  Endicott 
had  not  even  faintly  anticipated;  she  fairly  dazzled  those 
who  looked.  She  reflected,  indeed,  the  world's  processes, 
not  as  a  mere  mirror,  but  as  a  finely  cut  gem,  which  flashes 
now  red,  now  blue,  now  yellow,  again  simple  white  glory. 
Mrs.  Endicott,  fitted  to  appreciate  this  achievement  as  few 
are,  extolled  her  in  public,  yet  felt  a  deep  but  secret  censure 
which  would  not  manifest  itself  so  long  as  success 
bulked  large.  She  could  not  say  why  the  woman  got 
on  her  nerves,  but  that  she  did  was  indubitable.  Perhaps 
it  was  mere  jealousy — there  was  plenty  of  this  in  Bertha's 
neighborhood;  perhaps  it  was  something  more  disinter- 
ested ;  at  all  events  it  lurked  under  the  flaunting  blossoms 


114  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

of  praise  as  a  menace,,  though  one  that  might  never  come 
forth  to  sting. 

One  warm  June  evening  Bertha  and  Agnes  were  sitting 
in  the  study  without  a  light,  except  where  the  golden  moon 
looked  in  to  keep  them  company.  It  was  Sunday,  made 
especially  a  day  of  rest  to  Bertha's  household  by  Colton'3 
habitual  absence.  Monday  had  to  pay  for  it,  but  Sunday 
strengthened  them  for  the  payment.  The  balmy  breeze 
gave  undulating  movements  to  the  muslin  curtains  which, 
at  this  season,  replaced  the  heavy  winter  draperies  around 
the  open  windows.  Bertha  was  dressed  in  white,  some 
crumpled,  diaphanous  stuff,  amid  which  pink  ribbons 
blushed.  The  roses  Agnes  had  brought  her  drooped  upon 
her  bosom,  filling  the  languid  air  with  fragrance.  Bertha 
swayed  slowly  to  and  fro  in  a  low  rocker,  her  lips  curved 
into  a  smile  of  content  as  she  watched  the  passage  of  faint, 
irradiated  clouds  across  the  moon.  How  softly  the  goddess 
of  the  sky  glided  through  all  obstacles,  making  them  beau- 
tiful as  they  came  under  her  influence,  and  shining  with 
renewed  brilliance  when  they  were  left  behind!  What 
cloud  could  touch  her?  She  was  high  above  such  acci- 
dents, riding  serenely  in  the  upper  air. 

"Agnes,"  she  announced  suddenly,  "I  said  once  I  should 
tell  you  my  sfory  some  time;  this  is  the  hour." 

"Tell  me,"  replied  the  girl,  complete  affirmation  in  her 
tone.  What  difference  did  it  make  what  the  story  was? 
Bertha  was  Bertha :  all  was  said. 

"My  father  was  a  New  Yorker  of  aristocratic  family," 
began  Bertha,  much  interested  as  she  always  was  in  trac- 
ing her  own  origin.  "He  was  a  handsome  man,  full  of 
life  and  dash,  and  wrote  poetry,  they  tell  me.  I  should 
like  immensely  to  find  some  of  those  verses;  I  wonder  if 
they  are  anything  like  mine?  Well,  he  met  my  mother 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  115 

when  he  was  on  a  walking  tour,  and  promptly  they  fell  in 
love.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  farmer,  but  not  one  of  the 
Puritan  farmers,  whose  musket-shots  were  heard  around 
the  world.  No;  Pa  tells  me  he  is  said  to  have  lived 
riotously  in  youth;  perhaps  this  is  why  he  was  so  bitter 
against  his  daughter  when  she  yielded  to  her  love.  For  I 
was  a  child,  dear,  of  their  first  ardent  love,  love  without 
law,  indeed,  but  sincere  and  fresh.  Nothing  mercenary 
or  calculating  entered  into  my  composition ;  I  was  begotten 
as  the  stars  are  begotten  from  the  plenitude  of  power." 
She  faced  Agnes  with  lustrous,  level-lidded  eyes,  proud  of 
what  was  to  her  a  nobility  in  her  lineage  surpassing  that  of 
princes.  "Like  Adam  and  Eve  they  came  together;  the 
outcome  of  that  love  was  I.  Despised  I  may  have  been 
by  man,  but  not  by  God,  for  he  endowed  me  with  many 
gifts ;  and  surely  my  mother  loved  me.  Alas,  poor  mother ! 
News  arrived  only  a  few  days  before  my  birth  that  my 
father,  not  yet  twenty,  had  been  killed  by  an  accident. 
She  had  to  face  her  travail  with  that  anguish  in  her  soul ; 
but  at  least  she  had  known  the  supreme  joy  of  love." 

Bertha  gave  a  long,  half-sobbing  sigh,  and  Agnes  clung 
to  her,  not  understanding,  but  eager  to  console.  After  a 
little  Bertha  resumed:  "My  grandparents  scorned  their 
daughter  and  hated  me ;  but  my  mother  clung  to  me  while 
I  was  a  baby.  It  was  not  until  some  suitor  demanded  that 
I  should  be  sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  respectability — will- 
ing as  he  was  to  take  her,  but  not  her  badge  of  disgrace — 
that  she  consented  to  put  me  away.  She  repudiated  the 
bargain  afterwards,  I  am  glad  to  say,  and  drove  him  from 
her,  even  though  she  was  in  turn  driven  from  home.  But 
she  never  came  back  to  me,  her  child." 

"What  became  of  her?"  asked  Agnes,  deep  sympathy  in 
her  voice.  It  was  a  strange  world  to  which  she  was  being 


116  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

introduced;  one  full  of  surprises,  and  overthrow  of  tra- 
ditions, but  she  held  fast  to  her  guide  through  the  laby- 
rinth, and  felt  nothing  but  love  and  devotion  toward  her. 
How,  indeed,  could  any  one  blame  the  innocent  victim? 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Bertha.  "I  must  find  out  some 
time.  Pa  says  it  was  rumored  that  she  went  from  bad  to 
worse,  as  he  puts  it,  but  one  can't  trust  rumor.  You  should 
hear  Pa's  account  of  how  I  was  brought  to  him  and  Ma 
when  I  was  only  three  years  old.  I  can  recall  my  own 
feelings  very  well,  for  the  pain  made  an  indelible  impres- 
sion, young  as  I  was."  Her  eyes  glistened  with  unshed 
tears  as  she  recurred  to  this  early  sorrow.  "We  drove  over 
from  the  farm,  a  number  of  miles,  and  everything  was  in 
full  summer  glory.  I  had  never  explored  the  world  so  far 
before,  and  I  remember  being  in  high  glee,  despite  my  old 
grandfather's  crossness.  When  we  reached  the  little  house 
where  Pa  and  Ma  lived,  dear  old  Pa  came  forward  to  greet 
us.  He's  been  very  good  to  me  always,  but  then  I  thought 
him  ugly,  and  his  face  pricked  when  he  kissed  me,  and  I 
ran  away  from  him  into  the  funny  little  house.  Ma  was 
there  with  a  big  glass  of  milk,  so  full  that  some  of  it 
spilled  on  her  immaculate  floor.  I  suppose  her  hand 
trembled,  dear  old  heart !  She  knew  what  was  going  on 
behind  my  back,  but  of  course  I  hadn't  the  least  suspicion. 
Strangers  didn't  frighten  me  and  I  knew  the  one  I  loved 
was  near,  so  I  drank  the  cool  milk  thirstily  until  I  heard 
wheels  on  the  road.  Then  I  dropped  everything  and  ran 
to  the  door,  only  to  see  them  driving  off  and  leaving  me 
behind.  I  couldn't  believe  it.  I  screamed  aloud  to  them 
and  ran  out  into  the  deep  dust  of  the  road,  flinging  myself 
wildly  after  them,  transported  with  fear.  My  mother 
turned — I  shall  never  forget  that  face  distorted  with 
agony— and  waved  a  good-bye.  Still  I  rushed  after;  still 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  117 

I  called  at  the  top  of  my  childish  voice;  until  at  last  I  fell 
on  the  stony  road  and  lay  face  down  in  the  dust. 

"Oh,  it  was  a  cruel  way  to  treat  a  child !"  sighed  Bertha, 
wiping  her  wet  eyes  while  Agnes  possessed  herself  of  the 
other  hand,  pressing  it  tenderly.  "Those  screams  of  an 
innocent  little  one,  bereft  of  all  she  had  ever  known  must 
have  pierced  God's  heart.  Pa  picked  me  up,  he  says — I 
remember  nothing  further — and  carried  me  into  the  house, 
and  rocked  me  in  his  lap  through  the  long  June  twilight 
into  the  dark.  I  dozed  and  wakened  screaming,  and  dozed 
again  in  a  stupor  of  grief,  until  at  last  I  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep.  Then  they  undressed  me  and  put  me  in  their  bed. 
Ma  says  it  most  broke  her  heart  to  see  me  lie  there,  my 
head  a  tangle  of  bright  curls  on  the  pillow,  all  color  sobbed 
away  from  my  face,  and  dark,  circles  around  half-closed, 
unseeing  eyes." 

Bertha  looked  far  off  beyond  Agnes  into  the  distance  of 
the  past  she  pictured ;  but  as  Lois  began  to  stir  and  moan 
a  little  in  her  sleep,  she  put  aside  the  girl  and  went  quickly 
to  the  child. 

"Precious  blossom!"  she  exclaimed  passionately,  bending 
over  the  baby  as  if  she  would  pour  out  her  heart's  strength 
to  nourish  her;  "you  shall  never  suffer  so.  Never  shall  you 
miss  a  mother's  tender  care,  nor  feel  the  dreadful  desola- 
tion of  childhood,  which  has  no  knowledge  of  to-morrow, 
and  simply  sinks  engulfed  in  woe.  My  darling!  Mother 
is  here  and  will  never  leave  you." 

She  turned  the  little  body  gently  and  patted  it  to  sleep 
again.  Then  she  put  her  arm  across  Agnes's  slim  shoul- 
ders, led  her  back  to  the  window,  and  resumed  her  seat  and 
her  story. 

She  poured  herself  out  to  this  girl  as  she  had  never  done 
before  to  any  human  creature,  and  free  expression  was  an 


118  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

unspeakable  solace.  She  had  absolute  trust  in  Agnes,  and 
she  found  here  a  heart  which  could  sympathize  with  her 
inmost  feelings,  as  well  as  a  mind  which  could  understand 
the  vital  reasons  of  her  conduct.  Hence  a  confidence  estab- 
lished itself  by  swift  degrees  as  complete  as  the  mystery 
of  human  nature  will  allow. 

Agnes  herself  was  swept  away  from  all  old  landmarks 
by  the  mighty  tide  of  life  on  which  she  found  herself 
embarked.  She  did  not  attempt  to  solve  the  problems 
Bertha's  history  and  present  situation  brought  before  her; 
she  simply  accepted  whatever  solution  Bertha  gave  them, 
for  she  accepted  her  from  top  to  toe,  from  center  to  cir- 
cumference. In  any  case  where  their  opinions  differed  she 
was  convinced  that  Bertha  was  the  more  likely  to  be  right. 
It  was  easy  for  her  to  think  herself  wrong  in  any- 
thing :  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  connect  with  Bertha  any 
idea  of  wrong,  longer  than  for  the  moment  necessary  to 
dismiss  it. 

Never  was  there  any  one  who  could  accept  homage  with 
a  better  grace.  Bertha  justified  to  the  worshipper  what- 
ever high  estimate  might  be  put  upon  her;  thus  in  the 
long  run  she  justified  herself  to  the  tribunal  of  any  large 
judgment;  for  such  an  estimate  is  a  height  impossible  of 
attainment  by  a  spurious  character.  Idealization  did  not 
stultify  but  aroused  her.  In  any  vital  relation  she  treated 
with  others  only  on  the  basis  of  recognition  that  her  ideals 
were  essentially  worthy,  for  she  was  thoroughly  genuine. 
She  might  blunder  by  the  way,  might  be  challenged  and 
lose  approval,  and  lose  friends;  but  he  who  held  on  would 
see  his  hopes  had  been  firmly  anchored. 

On  the  other  hand,  at  this  time  reality  pressed  upon 
her  outrageously,  sharpening  the  contrast  of  her  life  to  an 
almost  insupportable  acuteness.  Along  with  the  adulation 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  119 

and  incense  that  dizzied  her  brain,  making  Her  spiritually 
arrogant,  went  the  hideous  crises  that  occurred  more  and 
more  frequently  between  her  and  Colton,  for  jealousy  and 
drink  reacted  on  each  other  in  him  and  drove  him  well-nigh 
insane. 

His  second  marriage  like  his  first  had  turned  out  a  harsh 
disappointment,  but  he  had  no  thought  of  getting  rid  of 
this  wife ;  his  one  torment  was,  how  to  keep  her.  Not  con- 
tent with  what  she  yielded  to  his  hold  he  grasped  for  her 
mind,  which  of  course  was  infinitely  beyond  him.  His 
efforts  to  get  at  it  had  even  a  touch  of  pathos  in  them  at 
times,  but  most  of  the  time  they  were  mere  clumsy  con- 
trivances to  strap  down  her  wings,  since  he  could  not  soar 
with  her.  Were  he  able  to  put  the  torch  to  culture  and  all 
its  instruments,  as  the  barbarians  did  to  the  Alexandrian 
library,  it  would  have  delighted  him  beyond  measure.  He 
tried  to  prevent  her  from  writing,  but  she  laughed  him  to 
scorn.  Then  he  said  she  should  not  have  a  damned  penny 
for  her  pains — as  if  she  cared  for  the  money !  It  was  his 
part  of  the  bargain  to  furnish  that.  At  any  rate,  then, 
since  it  was  impossible  to  confine  her  broad  wings,  he  let 
the  world  know,  and  made  her  detestably  aware,  that  this 
superb  woman,  whom  everybody  was  ready  to  adore,  be- 
longed to  him,  as  a  prize-ox  might  have  been  his  property. 
She  had  to  go  as  he  led  by  the  nose-ring  of  her  love  for 
her  child. 

For  it  was  here,  in  the  child  only,  that  the  better  part 
of  their  natures  met.  Colton  as  well  as  Bertha  was  devoted 
to  the  poor  creature  and  would  spend  hours  away  from  the 
bottle  when  he  was  coddling  and  playing  with  her.  One 
day  Bertha  went  into  the  nursery,  and  found  him  sitting 
motionless  at  the  window,  little  Lois  asleep  on  his  arm. 
He  was  watching  her  quick  breathing  and  wan  aspect  with 


120  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

a  look  of  so  much  concern  that  Bertha's  face  took  on  a 
tender  expression  even  for  him. 

"Tom,"  she  said  gently,  coming  up  behind  him,  and  lay- 
ing her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  at  which  he  met  her  eyes 
with  something  deeper  in  his  than  she  had  ever  seen  there ; 
"our  little  daughter  is  not  very  strong,  but  don't  be  de- 
spondent about  her.  She'll  grow  up  and  be  a  pride  to  us 
yet;  you'll  see.  My  precious  treasure!"  She  fell  on  her 
knees  to  get  closer  to  the  child,  and  pressed  her  lips  al- 
most ferociously  into  the  soft  cheek.  This  little  one  was 
the  sole  escape-valve  for  her  mighty  natural  love.  Lois 
was  her  own,  flesh  of  her  flesh,  heart  of  her  soul,  on  whom 
she  could  lavish  love  boundlessly.  The  man  watched  her, 
taking  in  the  two  faces  with  one  look — the  woman  so  vig- 
orous, palpitant  with  life,  so  yearning  to  impart  it;  the 
child  quiescent,  ravaged,  lacking  all  vitality;  and  he  put 
his  hand  on  Bertha's  head  with  an  awkward  caress: 

"I  hope  she  will  grow  up  for  your  sake,  Bertha,  even 
more  than  for  mine,"  he  said  gently.  "You  love  her,  and 
God  knows,  I  love  her;  but  love  can't  do  much;  and  see 
how  feeble  she  is !" 

Bertha  shot  to  her  feet,  throwing  back  her  head  with  a 
gesture  and  sound  as  if  something  intolerable  were  put 
upon  her. 

"No,  she  isn't!"  she  cried  defiantly.  "She  has  gained  a 
pound  in  the  last  month.  All  children  are  weak,  just  as 
they  are  little.  She  shall  grow  up  to  be  strong  and  happy." 

Masterfully  she  look  the  child  from  him,  pressing  the 
small  body  against  her  own  with  an  air  of  almost  dis- 
tracted intensity.  Her  husband,  standing  by,  sluggish  as 
his  mind  was,  understood  something  of  what  she  was  ex- 
periencing: so  had  he  felt  often  toward  his  wife;  his,  yet 
so  little  his.  He  shook  his  head,  turning  away  sorrowful. 


CHAPTER  X 

"Ton,  this  time,  surely,  you  will  volunteer!"  cried 
Bertha,  coming  into  the  dining-room  one  bright  April 
morning,  the  Tribune  in  her  hand.  Pa  and  Ma  and  Colton 
were  already  at  the  table,  and  she  riveted  their  eyes  upon 
her  by  the  glow  and  urgency  of  her  aspect.  "Here's  an- 
other call  for  troops;  men  are  desperately  needed.  Don't 
delay  longer,  Tom.  Serve  something  bigger  than  yourself, 
and  who  can  tell  how  far  you  might  swing  ahead  ?  You've 
stuff  in  you,  if  you'd  only  give  it  a  chance " 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Bertha,  and  give  me  some  coffee,"  inter- 
rupted Colton,  pulling  her  down  into  her  chair.  "I  shan't 
go  into  the  army,  and  you  needn't  try  to  make  me.  You 
can't  get  rid  of  me  that  easy." 

His  grim,  suspicious  smile,  as  if  he  caught  her  in  a  sly 
trick,  turned  her  soul,  but  she  did  not,  for  that,  desist. 

"Get  rid  of  you!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  I  want  is  to 
get  proud  of  you.  Now's  your  chance.  You'll  put  a  clasp 
to  my  necklace,  and  one  that  I  shall  honor,  if  you  will 
volunteer  to-day." 

She  seized  and  held  out  in  both  hands  the  chain  of  beads 
around  her  neck,  each  one  different,  some  of  glass,  some 
of  gold,  some  of  bronze,  some  of  silver;  each  the  symbol 
and  gift  of  a  soldier  whom  she  had  persuaded  to  the 
front.  As  she  leaned  forward,  impressive,  magnetic,  she 
bent  upon  her  husband  that  insistent  gaze  of  authority 

121 


which  few  could  resist.  But  a  still  stronger  motive  was  at 
work  within  him. 

"Quit  it!"  he  thundered.  "Don't  you  try  to  wheedle 
me  into  getting  out  of  your  way.  You'd  like  me  to  be 
killed,  no  doubt,  but  I'll  stick  close  and  show  you  I'm  very 
much  alive.  You  needn't  think  I'm  an  absolute  fool  you 
can  do  what  you  choose  with.  It  ain't  so  by  a  damned  lot. 
Mind  your  own  business  and  let  me  alone.  What  are  you 
going  to  be  up  to  to-day?" 

"That's  my  business,"  said  Bertha,  revolted,  her  ardor 
quenched  like  flame  by  foul  water. 

"How  is  little  Lois,  Bertie?"  interpolated  Pa,  his  quiet 
voice  akin  to  a  gentle  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  "Did  she 
have  a  good  night?" 

"No,  she  was  restless,  and  found  it  hard  to  breathe," 
replied  Bertha,  anxiety  overcoming  rebellion  in  her  face; 
"but  she's  better  since  daylight.  The  doctor  will  be  here 
at  noon." 

At  sundown,  however,  when  Agnes  came  in,  she  found 
the  house  in  commotion.  Lois  was  very  ill,  Pa  told  her  in 
words  that  trembled.  An  attack  of  croup  was  heavy  upon 
her,  and  as  she  had  so  little  power  to  resist,  the  doctor 
feared  the  worst. 

The  news  gave  Agnes  a  shock:  could  such  a  dislocating 
blow  be  the  next  move  of  fate?  She  went  upstairs,  her 
heart  in  a  clutch  of  distress.  The  door  between  the  nursery 
and  Bertha's  study  was  open,  and  the  girl  stopped  there 
at  gaze.  Bertha  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  crib,  her  face 
loose,  sunken,  as  if  paralyzed.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on 
Lois,  who  was  in  her  father's  arms,  looking  to  him  anxious- 
ly for  succor.  The  child's  pathetic  countenance  was  full 
of  pain,  her  breathing  convulsive.  Ma,  working  over  some 
steaming  cloths,  motioned  Agnes  away,  and  the  girl  with- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

3rew  heartsick.  She  lingered  awhile  downstairs;  the  doc- 
tor came  and  went,  reporting  some  symptoms  better,  and 
saying  that  if  the  night  passed  well 

Early  the  next  morning  Agnes  was  at  the  house  again, 
and  Bertha  came  for  a  moment  into  the  study  to  speak  to 
her.  The  mother's  face  was  drawn  and  weary,  but  not 
abject  as  the  night  before,  when  will  had  lain  supine. 
Agnes  could  only  press  her  hand  in  silence. 

"She  still  lives,"  said  Bertha,  sinking  on  to  a  sofa;  "but 
in  great  pain  and  misery.  She  wants  her  father  rather 
than  me,  and  he  has  held  her  all  night.  Oh,  why  should 
my  innocent  little  Lois  suffer  so?  It  is  cruel,  cruel,  that 
the  sins  of  the  father  should  be  visited  upon  the  children. 
It  is  unjust;  everything  is  unjust."  She  sprung  to  her 
feet,  nearly  beside  herself  with  anxiety  and  impotence. 
"Why  does  God  permit  such  things?  Why  should  my  life 
have  been  cursed,  lost  from  the  outset  ?  Then  why  should 
I  have  been  forced  to  bring  an  innocent  child  into  the  world 
to  suffer  like  this " 

The  door  opened  softly  and  Pa  entered.  He  joined 
Bertha,  laying  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  looking  ten- 
derly into  her  face  with  commiserating  eyes.  For  a  long 
moment  he  did  not  speak,  then 

"She  suffers  no  more,"  he  said. 

Bertha  gave  a  cry,  flew  to  the  door,  and  rushed  through 
it.  Agnes  followed  slowly.  It  was  true.  Mr.  Colton,  the 
tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks,  was  pulling  at  the  bedclothes 
to  cover  the  thin  little  form,  quiet  now.  Bertha  sunk  on 
her  knees  and  flung  her  arms  around  the  touching  little 
figure. 

"Lois !  my  baby !"  she  cried. 

Agnes  shrunk  away,  destitute  of  aid.  Pa  put  his  hand 
on  Bertie's  bowed  head,  pressing  his  thin  old  knee  against 


124,  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

her  side  to  support  her.  Ma  drew  to  his  other  arm,  which 
clasped  her.  The  only  sound  was  Colton's  hard,  gulping 
eobs. 

A  multitudinous  flutter  of  flags,  miles  of  bunting,  wild 
joy  in  the  streets,  men  falling  on  one  another's  necks  for 
rapture  that  peace  had  come  at  last — all  this  tumult  of 
delight  beat  upon  the  little  cortege  on  the  day  of  burial. 

"What  does  it  mean?  What  is  it  all  about?"  asked 
Bertha  dully,  looking  up  once,  as  an  outbreak  of  cheers 
burst  close  upon  them. 

"Peace,  my  child,  it  means  peace,"  answered  Pa.  "Lee 
has  surrendered." 

"Peace?  The  war  is  at  an  end?"  she  queried,  only  a 
faint,  far  echo  of  the  world's  activity  penetrating  her  brain. 

"Yes,  we  told  you  yesterday,  you  know;  the  news  came 
yesterday  afternoon." 

"Peace!  And  there  are  people  who  can  be  glad,"  she 
murmured.  Then,  clasping  passionately  the  little  casket 
that  lay  across  her  knee  and  Colton's,  she  cried  aloud: 
"My  baby!  my  precious  baby!"  and  tears  again  flowed. 

The  murder  of  Lincoln,  which  came  hard  upon  the  heels 
of  triumph,  brought  a  revulsion  unique  in  history  from 
tumult  of  joy  to  horror  and  woe;  yet  even  this  fearful 
shock  could  not  arouse  Bertha  from  her  private  calamity. 

The  loss  of  her  child  shattered  her  accustomed  existence. 
The  life  which  had  commanded  her  life  was  snatched  away ; 
there  was  no  center  to  her  system;  it  was  without  coher- 
ence or  stability.  The  love  for  her  child  had  been  the  sun 
around  which  conduct  revolved.  She  had  lived  the  truth 
that  "Love  is  a  great  thing,  yea,  a  great  and  thorough 
good;  by  itself  it  makes  everything  that  is  heavy,  light; 
and  it  bears  evenly  all  that  is  uneven.  Love  thinks  nothing 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  125 

* 

of  trouble,  attempts  what  is  above  its  strength,  pleads  no 
excuse  of  impossibility.  It  is  therefore  able  to  undertake 
all  things,  and  it  completes  many."  Lois  gone,  motive  for 
Bertha  was  blotted  out.  The  dreams  of  girlhood  which 
had  taken  on  more  vivid  hues  to  brighten  the  little  one's 
future,  were  again  brought  to  desolate  dust.  The  last  shred 
of  faith  and  hope  seemed  blown  away;  there  was  no  God, 
there  was  no  life  hereafter,  there  was  no  life  here.  The 
machinery  of  existence  came  to  a  stop,  and  she  lay  prone 
in  the  grave  with  the  body  of  her  child. 

Agnes  was  without  help  to  offer.  It  appalled  her  to  dis- 
cover this  fact,  for  she  had  been  strictly  brought  up  in  the 
forms  of  religion,  and  had  supposed  them  to  be  solid  and 
secure.  Now,  when  the  huge  grief  of  her  friend,  who  was 
so  near  that  what  one  bore  the  other  must  share,  fell,  a 
dead  weight,  on  these  conventions,  they  proved  themselves 
but  hollow  images  which  crumbled  to  earth  before  the  on- 
slaught of  life.  Not  a  single  vital  truth  remained  to  il- 
lumine the  blackness  of  death.  All  that  Agnes  could  do 
was  to  press  close  and  try  to  stanch  the  bleeding  wound  by 
loving  contact.  It  helped,  as  true  sympathy  always  helps ; 
but  the  two  were  like  lost  children;  so  dismayed  by  the 
strange  world  in  which  they  found  themselves  that  they 
did  not  count  as  comfort  the  immense  solace  of  clinging 
hands. 

Tom  Colton,  to  drown  grief,  drank  deeply,  and  Bertha 
found  him  more  than  she  could  endure,  for  a  time  at  least, 
so  she  took  Pa  and  went  to  the  sea,  her  husband  acquiescing 
grudgingly. 

Bertha  had  never  seen  the  sea,  and  now  she  longed  for 
it  with  an  intense  desire.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  it  would 
bring  a  message  could  she  but  hear  it,  and  her  whole  soul 
cried  out  for  some  message,  some  answer  to  her  endless 


126  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

questionings,  some  assurance.  They  traveled  east  as  swiftly 
as  possible,  and  Pa  looked  in  wonder  at  the  cities  through 
which  they  sped,  and  with  awe  at  the  mountains  which 
lifted  through  the  dark  to  the  clear  stars.  Bertha  was 
comforted  as  much  as  anything  could  comfort  her  by  his 
company.  His  was  a  congenial  presence;  and  his  simple 
faith,  that  did  not  attempt  to  explain  anything,  rested  her 
weary  mind. 

They  came  at  last  to  the  sea;  they  stood  upon  its  shore 
and  gazed  out  over  its  wide,  grey  waters.  Distance  beyond 
distance  she  knew  it  extended,  league  beyond  league.  It  is 
nature's  presentation  of  the  infinite,  and  for  the  trrth 
symbolized  she  instinctively  sought  the  symbol,  for  to  her 
the  invisible  was  a  blank.  But  the  message  that  the  ocean 
brought  made  her  spirit  shiver  to  its  depths.  A  vast, 
empty  loneliness.  What  could  one  creature  do  amid  such 
uncontrollable  immensity?  What  was  the  will  against  such 
a  resistless  force?  Her  tiny  individuality  was  lost  like  a 
microscopic  atom  before  this  unresting,  unfruitful  chaos 
of  waves.  The  prairie,  which  has  much  of  the  same  il- 
limitable aspect,  gave  her  no  similar  sense  of  personal  in- 
significance. Effort  there  is  not  in  vain;  the  prairie  re- 
sponds to  the  touch  of  a  hoe,  to  the  fall  of  a  seed,  and  the 
fruit  of  man's  will  grows  and  is  garnered  into  barns.  But 
here,  what  difference  did  it  make  whether  man  willed  this 
or  that?  His  most  powerful  creations  cause  but  a  mo- 
mentary track,  or  are  engulfed  without  a  sound.  The  sea 
ignores  his  commands,  and  orders  in  his  stead ;  all  is  swal- 
lowed eventually  in  the  maw  of  this  disintegrating  element ; 
its  solemn  thunder  is  man's  dirge. 

She  turned  from  it  with  a  shudder,  rejoining  Pa,  who 
sat  on  a  rock  with  a  grave  but  glorified  look  in  his  wrinkled 
face,  gazing  out  at  the  grandeur  spread  before  him. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  127 

"Come,  Pa,"  she  said  hastily,  "I  can't  stand  it;  it  is  too 
horrible." 

He  looked  up  in  surprise,  but,  seeing  her  expression  of 
desolate  despair,  his  turned  to  pity.  He  rose  stiffly,  and, 
without  a  regretful  glance  at  what  he  would  have  liked  to 
watch  all  day,  made  ready  to  accompany  her. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  as  they  crossed  the 
beach. 

"Inland  somewhere;  anywhere  out  of  sight  and  sound  of 
this." 

They  took  a  sandy  path  which  led  toward  pine  woods 
that  made  a  green  oasis  to  Bertha's  wild  eye.  She  hurried 
along,  her  tall  figure  with  its  free,  lissom  movements  under 
the  black  garb  taking  on  the  air  of  a  hunted  thing.  When 
a  wild  rose  briar  caught  her  skirts  she  shuddered  as  if  an 
enemy  had  overtaken  her,  but  on  stooping  to  disentangle 
her  dress  she  saw  the  pretty  pink  stars  which  offered  their 
aromatic  fragrance  freshly,  and  she  plucked  them  regard- 
less of  thorns,  in  her  joy  at  finding  something  familiar 
with  almost  a  human  homeliness. 

"See,  Pa !"  she  exclaimed,  as  he  came  up  out  of  breath. 
"  They  are  like  the  roses  at  home.  I  haven't  seen  any  since 
I  left  there.  Aren't  they  lovely?  Do  you  remember  how 
I  used  to  wind  them  in  my  hair?  What  a  time  I  had  get- 
ting them  out !  but  the  briar-scent  would  cling  to  me  for 
days.  I  always  loved  it,"  and  she  inhaled  the  pleasant 
odor  with  a  sense  of  delicious  custom  as  they  strolled  on, 
slowly  now. 

Presently  they  reached  the  pines,  and  wandered  about 
over  sparse  grass  under  thin  shade.  It  was  not  an  attrac- 
tive spot.  During  a  bright  hour  it  might  be  agreeable 
enough,  but  to-day  the  atmosphere  was  greyish,  with  the 
hard  look  and  far  perspective  that  comes  before  a  storm. 


128  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

It  had  lent  the  immensity  of  the  ocean,  in  its  disregarding 
indifference,  a  more  sinister  emphasis.  Here,  where  the 
ocean  was  hidden,  it  impressed  upon  the  mind  a  sense  of 
negatives  peculiarly  repugnant  to  Bertha.  Her  fragile 
roses,  not  cultivated  to  endure,  drooped  and  faded,  as  she 
wandered  ahout  aimlessly. 

"Sans  light,  sans  heat,  sans  color,  sans  everything!"  she 
moaned  at  lengtjh,  dropping  onto  a  half-grassy  hillock  at 
the  foot  of  a  pine.  "What  does  it  mean,  Pa?"  she  queried, 
looking  up  with  gold-flecked  eyes  at  the  old  man  who 
leaned,  hands  folded,  on  his  stick  beside  her.  An  expres- 
sion of  fear  came  into  her  face.  "I  have  longed  for  the 
sea  always,  and  of  late  it  has  seemed  as  if  I  could  not  live 
without  it.  I  come  and  look  upon  it,  and  I  am  afraid.  I 
want  to  get  away,  I  want  to  forget  it,  and  I  can  no  more 
do  so  than  I  can  forget — death."  She  shivered  and  drew 
her  cloak  about  her  with  a  huddling  gesture. 

"Why  should  you  be  afraid  to  think  of  death,  child?" 
asked  Pa  gently.  "It  is  but  an  end  of  pain;  it  is  the  be- 
ginning of  joy  forever.  Little  Lois  will  welcome  you  in 
heaven  some  day." 

Bertha  shook  her  head,  sighing.  She  saw  how  impossible 
it  was  to  make  Pa  understand  her  state  of  mind,  which, 
indeed,  was  a  maze  to  herself.  She  could  picture  her  soul 
only  as  the  dove  seeking  over  all  the  wild  waste  of  turbulent 
waters  for  a  support  on  which  she  could  alight  and  close 
her  weary  wings.  Would  she  never  find  a  perch  for  her 
foot?  Must  she  sink,  like  the  rest,  in  the  flood? 

She  rose,  an  unquiet  lassitude  heavy  upon  her,  and  they 
turned  back  toward  the  hotel.  Presently  she  broke  out 
with: 

"Pa,  let  us  go  Home!    Let  us  go  back  to  the  village. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  129 

Perhaps  there  I  shall  find At  all  events,  I  can't  stand 

it  here !  You  won't  mind,  will  you  ?  Let's  start  to-day." 

"Very  well,"  said  Pa,  patiently.  So  the  next  day  they 
reached  the  village  near  which  Bertha  had  been  born.  Ah, 
why  was  she  ever  born ! 

As  they  neared  the  cottage  toward  dusk,  every  turn  was 
full  of  memories,  every  tree  was  a  friendly  ghost.  How 
strangely  familiar  it  remained,  how  unchanged.  The  peo- 
ple who  had  rented  the  cottage  were  glad  to  take  them  in, 
and  gave  of  their  best,  with  awe,  to  this  fine  lady  who  had 
incredibly  developed  from  the  friendless  child  of  yore. 
She  lay  down  in  the  bed  of  her  childhood,  and  its  hard 
narrowness,  far  from  disturbing  her,  made  her  sleep  as  she 
had  not  slept  since  before  Lois  died.  But  in  the  morning 
grief  early  drove  her  forth  to  nature,  the  simple  quiet 
nature  that  had  befriended  her  in  childhood. 

A  day  or  two  later  she  was  sitting  under  the  old  tree 
where  she  had  first  seen  Mr.  Grey,  her  hands  clasped  about 
her  knees,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  blue  lake  and  the  misty 
undulations  beyond.  In  these  haunts  of  her  childhood 
where  she  had  dreamed,  on  the  hill  facing  the  west  where 
the  sunset  painted  the  sky  not  more  gloriously  than  her 
hopes  had  done  the  future,  the  constant  refrain  of  her 
thoughts  was,  "A  lost  life,  a  life  lost."  What  she  had 
gained  now  seemed  naught  to  her;  the  touch  of  death  had 
crumbled  the  world  to  dust ;  why  not  let  herself  go  whither 
all  tended? 

A  sound  of  footsteps  approaching  over  the  rustling  car- 
pet aroused  her  from  these  drear  thoughts,  and  looking  up 
she  saw  Austin  Grey  limping  toward  her.  She  sprung  to 
her  feet  and  ran  to  meet  him.  For  a  moment  she  forgot 
all  except  that  here  was  her  old  life  coming  back  to  her  in 


130  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

the  old  places,  the  sweet  hopes  of  girlhood,  the  marvelous 
possibilities  that  lie  before  youth. 

Grey  was  astonished  at  the  smile  that  irradiated  her 
countenance;  it  was  wonderfully  spontaneous  and  fresh. 
He  had  heard  of  her  loss  through  Agnes,  whom  he  had 
never  seen,  but  who  had  written  urging  him  to  go  to 
Bertha  if  it  were  in  any  way  possible.  "She  needs  you  as 
never  before,"  said  the  friend.  The  sincerity  and  vicarious 
distress  of  the  letter  were  so  patent  that  in  spite  of  the 
commotion  of  the  time  and  a  wound  that  troubled  him, 
he  hastened  to  Fernside.  Here  this  smile  greeted  him. 

"How  good  of  you!"  she  cried,  grasping  both  his  hands 
regardless  of  the  cane  in  one  of  them.  "You  are  heaven- 
sent if  any  one  ever  was.  You  are  my  dear,  thoughtful 
guardian  as  ever;  only  now" — and  her  face  fell  abruptly 
into  desolation — "now  I  need  guarding  more  than  ever." 
She  shrunk  toward  him  as  if  to  get  away  from  herself. 
The  swift  alteration  of  her  look  told  him  much. 

"I  thought  possibly  I  might  serve,"  he  answered,  noting 
the  ravages  of  grief  in  her  fair  face,  conspicuous  now  that 
dejection  resumed  its  sway.  "When  there  is  a  storm  the 
ship  needs  bulwarks,"  he  added,  as  they  walked  toward 
their  tree;  "they  may  help  to  save  precious  human  lives." 

She  nodded,  unable  to  speak,  for  this  touch  of  compre- 
hending sympathy  made  the  trembling  cup  almost  run  over. 
They  seated  themselves  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  she  helping 
to  make  him  comfortable;  then  her  burdened  heart  sud- 
denly burst  forth: 

"Why  should  life  be  precious  to  me?  I  have  nothing 
to  live  for;  I've  lost  my  only  tie;  it  matters  little  to  any- 
body what  I  do.  There  is  no  God,  else  he  would  have  left 
me  Lois,  my  precious  baby,  the  only  creature  in  all  the 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  131 

vide  universe  I  had  of  my  own  to  love.  But  she's  gone; 
she's  gone,  do  you  understand?  She's  gone." 

The  wild  look  in  her  eyes,  the  hopeless  fall  in  her  voice, 
the  despair  that  spread  about  her  a  dark,  illimitable  void, 
roused  a  combatant  energy  in  Austin  Grey. 

"She  is  not  gone,"  he  said  in  a  clear,  ringing  tone.  "She 
has  but  passed  out  of  sight  for  a  moment,  as  a  mote  from 
those  sunbeams  yonder;  it  is  just  as  much  there  in  the 
shadow  as  in  the  light.  You  must  not  let  death,  so  little 
a  thing  as  death,  Bertha,  overcome  you." 

"So  little  a  thing  as  death?"  she  echoed,  with  a  sur- 
prised stare.  "How  can  I  get  back  Lois?" 

"By  seeking  her  where  she  is,"  he  answered  with  assur- 
ance. "It  is  not  the  body,  nor  the  earth's  circumference, 
that  binds  us  to  those  we  love;  love  itself  holds  us  to- 
gether, now  as  then,  now  as  always.  Hold  on  to  your  love 
for  your  little  girl ;  let  it  lift  you  into  the  light." 

"If  it  only  could,"  she  sighed  drearily. 

"Don't  seek  her  in  the  tomb,"  he  went  on  vigorously. 
"It  is  empty;  she  is  not  there.  You've  never  failed  her 
when  she  called,  you  won't  now.  Look  up;  turn  your  face 
away  from  the  grave  and  toward  her — toward  truth." 

She  drank  in  thirstily  what  he  said.  That  another  could 
so  live  by  faith  sustained  and  calmed  her.  What  man  has 
done,  man  may  do.  But  he  could  not  transfuse  his  insight 
into  her  mind ;  that  is  a  life-blood  no  transfusion  can  sup- 
ply. She  looked  off  over  the  water  while  the  pain  in  her 
face  lapsed  from  its  poignancy. 

"Do  you  remember  telling  me,"  he  resumed  after  a  si- 
lence, touching  another  key,  "that  when  you  first  learned 
of  your  birth  you  wanted  to  die  as  the  easiest  way  out  of 
the  tangle?  But  then  you  determined,  'No,  I'll  live  and 
conquer  yet  P  And  you  did.  You  must  be  as  brave  now 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

as  you  were  then,  Bertha.  You  must  go  on,  even  if  it  be 
through  the  shadow  of  death  and  the  tumult  of  many 
waters.  You  will,  for  your  nature  is  not  of  the  substance 
to  be  dissolved  in  brine :  it  is  preserved  by  it.  Many  wait 
for  the  help  you  can  give  them.  Your  life  has  taught  you 
what  can  be  gained  through  trial " 

"What  I  have  gained,"  she  interrupted,  "is  nothing  t9 
what  I  have  lost.  I  might  have  been  something  worth 
while — But  what  matters  anything?  Death  ends  it  all." 

"It  ends  it  only  as  the  rest  between  the  beats  of  the 
heart  ends  life,"  insisted  the  General.  "Out  of  that  rest 
springs  strength  for  the  next  throb  and  life  is  the  un- 
ceasing continuity  of  throbs.  Don't  dwell  on  death ;  think 
of  life,  think  of  your  duties;  they  throng  about  you.  N"o 
person,  however  dear,  can  be  one's  only  tie.  There  is 
something  beside  people  which  binds  us,  and  that  is  our 
own  soul.  Besides,  there  is  your  husband;  what  of  him?" 

"My  soul,  to  which  you  appeal,  utterly  repudiates  himi" 
she  exclaimed  with  intense  bitterness. 

"Bertha!"  he  chided.  The  sternness  of  four  terrible 
years  that  had  melted  from  his  face  in  compassion,  re- 
turned to  it  now.  "You  forget  that  he  is  your  husband." 

"I'm  not  likely  to  forget  it;  hell-fires  have  burned  it 
into  me.  Fate  has  been  hard,  hard,  hard !" 

Her  head  dropped  on  her  knees,  and,  knowing  what  he 
knew,  words  of  comfort  failed  her  friend;  but  presently 
words  of  energy  came  to  him. 

"Fate  may  have  been  hard  to  you,  Bertha,  but  haven't 
you  been  hard  to  yourself  as  well  ?  Look  back  and  see  if 
you  have  not  abetted  fate.  You  married  on  an  impulse 
which  brought  you  great  trial,  but  you  did  not  succumb. 
Don't  do  so  now.  What  you  have  lost,  regain.  But  be 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  133 

careful  not  to  side  with  fate  against  yourself  by  another 
rash  action." 

She  raised  her  head  as  he  spoke,  and  when  he  said, 
"What  you  have  lost,  regain,"  a  sudden  brilliance  of  light 
as  of  release  broke  over  her  face.  He  was  startled  by  the 
transformation,  and  it  suggested  the  warning  of  his  last 
sentence,  but  she  paid  slight  attention  to  that. 

"Bless  you!  Bless  you  for  the  hope  you  have  given 
me,"  she  cried,  grasping  his  hand,  and  pressing  it  between 
hers,  as  she  looked  up  with  dewy,  grateful  eyes.  "I  shall 
never  forget  your  words." 


CHAPTER  XI 

DURING  the  next  few  days  Bertha  and  General  Grey 
were  much  together,  largely  out  of  doors,  driving  along 
moist  country  roads,  between  the  grateful  shade  of  the 
woods,  and  the  sunny  fields  teeming  with  new  life.  Crab- 
apples  were  in  blossom,  and  she  leaped  out  of  the  buggy 
lightly  when  they  saw  some  to  pluck — his  wound  deterring 
him — and  piled  the  fragrant  sprays  high  against  the  dash- 
board: their  rose  and  white  matched  her  complexion 
singularly  well,  he  thought.  He  watched  the  movements  of 
her  tall,  lithe  figure,  comparing  her  to  the  young  birch 
trees  around  them  which  swung  their  white  limbs  freely  in 
garments  of  vaporous  green,  and  his  sense  of  beauty  was 
satisfied.  She  was  climbing  out  of  her  grief  hour  by  hour ; 
it  was  amazing  to  see  the  new  life  grow,  take  on  color,  and 
form,  and  expression.  It  interested  him  tremendously: 
where  might  she  not  arrive  with  this  vigor  dauntlessly  sur- 
viving every  shock? 

Yet  in  this  country  intimacy  he  became  aware  of  a  dis- 
orderly strain  in  her,  and  to  him  the  disorderly  was  an 
offense.  He  felt  a  lack  of  response  to  the  more  scrupulous 
considerations  of  life  akin  to  color-blindness;  he  even 
scented  a  certain  indelicacy  in  her  defiance  of  that  which 
she  scorned  in  the  world's  methods. 

"There  is  a  contemptible  lot  of  hypocrisy  in  those  who 
set  themselves  up  as  exponents  of  the  righteous  and  the 
law-abiding,"  she  exclaimed  disdainfully,  when  they  were 

134 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  135 

commenting  on  some  of  the  corruptions  that  four  years  of 
war  had  fostered.  "Supposing  commanders  do  drink; 
what  of  it,  if  they  win  battles  ?  That  is  where  they  serve 
the  people,  and  that  is  what  the  people  should  he  thankful 
for:  the  wives  will  pay  for  the  rest.  Supposing  men  do 
steal  and  get  rich  on  what  passes  through  their  fingers? 
What  passes  through  is  the  point.  If  that  helps  a  great 
end,  the  stealing  is  their  private  affair.  Why,  the  very 
persons  who  point  the  finger  and  cry  shame,  would  do 
exactly  the  same,  or  worse,  if  they  were  in  the  same  box." 

"  Some  of  them  might,  many  of  them  wouldn't,"  asserted 
Austin  Grey  with  emphasis.  "In  any  case,  hypocrisy,  you 
know,  is  a  tribute  to  virtue  and  has  its  value " 

"Not  a  whit  of  value  to  my  mind!"  interrupted  Bertha, 
throwing  back  her  head  contumaciously.  "Let  a  man  live 
out  openly  what  is  in  him,  and  whether  it  be  good  or  bad, 
it  won't  do  any  such  harm  as  these  masks  of  virtue  that 
cover  defilement,  yet  look  demure." 

"To  cover  one's  sins  is  at  least  more  decent  than  to  flaunt 
them,"  replied  the  man  with  some  sternness.  "Of  course 
it  is  simply  a  sham  unless  veracity  is  built  up  under  it, 
but  that  often  happens :  we  adopt  the  form,  and  it  in  time 
forms  us."  ' 

"It  is  much  more  likely  that  rottenness  will  spread  from 
the  center  all  through." 

"Of  course  there  are  plenty  of  examples  both  ways;  but 
be  that  as  it  may,  I  want  to  go  back  to  the  other  point  you 
made  because  it  seems  to  me  a  mistake  that  weakens  to 
assume  that  since  some  do  wrong  when  it  is  easy,  all  would. 
All  wouldn't.  The  difference  between  man  and  man  is  pre- 
cisely the  difference  that  makes  history.  Take  slavery,  for 
instance.  Many  a  man  left  the  south  and  became  a 
pioneer,  choosing  poverty  and  hardships  rather  than  to  own 


136  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

slaves.  Moreover,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  there  are 
certain  things  you  or  I  wouldn't  do,  come  what  might. 
Why  blink  the  fact  ?  We  can  be  merciful  to  others  without 
being  unjust  to  the  truth." 

"Perhaps  you  are  surer  of  yourself  than  I  can  be,"  said 
Bertha  in  a  minor,  wistful  tone.  "It  isn't  difficult  for  me 
to  imagine  myself  doing  almost  anything,  given  the  situa- 
tion to  evoke  it." 

"Well,  your  'almost'  saves  my  argument,"  replied  her 
guardian  with  a  smile.  "And  I  have  a  notion,  'almost' 
would  cover  more  things  than  you  are  aware  of.  At  all 
events,  this  idea  is  worth  thinking  over.  It  strengthens  to 
put  one's  back  against  the  solid  front  of  the  universe — to 
straighten  oneself  according  to  definite  principles — then 
one  can  face  without  faltering  whatever  comes.  The  flimsy 
stage-properties  of  the  world  may  be  of  small  value,  bat  it 
is  well  to  beware  of  letting  a  contempt  for  th'em  smolder 
— it  might  some  day  flame  up  and  set  afire  at  the  same 
time  what  is  really  the  priceless  inheritance  of  the  race." 

Bertha  made  no  reply.  She  had  a  growing  sense  of 
veneration  for  him,  mixed  with  fear.  The  hard  years  of 
toil  and  danger  in  defense  of  an  assailed  principle  had 
stripped  to  sheer  strength  the  force  of  his  character.  He 
was.  a  man  affirmed  by  the  trial  of  courage,  by  the  need  of 
ready  resource  and  clear  views,  by  the  unflinching  stern- 
ness toward  the  great  wrong  of  slavery,  which  involved  so 
many  lesser  wrongs,  and  the  same  extirpating  firmness 
toward  each  of  these  lesser  wrongs  in  turn. 

Every  contact  between  him  and  Bertha  caused  her  esteem 
and  admiration  to  increase.  He  held  their  relations  to  a 
high  level ;  it  was  he,  not  she,  who  maintained  them  there, 
but  he  did  so  in  entire  unconsciousness.  It  was  as  impos- 
sible for  Bertha  to  be  with  any  man  and  not  try  her  sen- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  137 

suous  power  over  him,  as  for  sunlight  not  to  give  forth 
also  heat ;  but  the  atmosphere  around  Austin  Grey  deflected 
the  heat  while  letting  the  light  shine  through  brightly.  It 
was  a  new  experience  to  Bertha  and  one  that  checked  her. 

As  she  listened  to  his  words  of  integrity  and  undeviating 
righteousness,  by  some  curious  antithesis  a  thought  oc- 
curred to  Bertha  and  kept  recurring  until,  as  they  took  a 
new  direction,  she  said: 

"It  must  be  this  way  that  the  old  farm  lies  where  I  was 
born.  How  would  you  like  to  drive  on  and  see  if  we  can 
find  out  what  has*  become  of  my  mother?" 

The  suggestion  took  him  by  surprise  and  he  hardly  ap- 
proved of  it,  yet  he  would  not  attempt  to  dissuade  her. 
The  marvels  she  brought  to  pass  among  women  became 
known  to  him  while  he  was  in  Chicago;  they  were  even 
more  remarkable  than  those  she  effected  with  men  in  get- 
ting them  to  enlist ;  and  he  recognized  as  one  of  her  noblest 
traits  this  impulse  to  lift  others.  She  infused  all  those 
under  her  influence  with  vitality,  an  inherent  power  to 
throw  off  what  cumbered.  For  she  looked  upon  life  in  the 
same  manner  that  she  made  it  evident, — as  a  flame,  in  pro- 
cess: body,  either  of  flesh  or  deeds,  was  to  her  a  mere 
static  register  of  results,  part  ash-heap,  part  fuel,  which,  in 
burning,  liberated  forces  that  soared  upward  in  living  as- 
piration. 

Austin  Grey  was  keenly  appreciative  of  this  quality,  but 
as  they  continued  on  their  way  he  wanted  to  be  sure  she 
saw  the  dangers. 

"You  know,"  he  began,  in  a  more  nervous  tone  than 
usual,  "you  may  be  getting  yourself  into  something  try- 
ing. The  mere  fact  of  attempting  to  trace  your  mother 
may  produce  complications.  What  will  Mr.  Colton  say?" 

"I  am  utterly  indifferent  to  whatever  he  may  say!"  she 


138  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

exclaimed  indignantly,  while  her  face  flushed  a  heavy  red. 
She  waited  a  moment  to  let  the  impulse  of  anger  subside 
before  she  went  on.  "If  I  cannot  go  to  my  own  mother, 
who  should?  And  certainly  human  beings  ought  to  help 
one  another.  From  what  I  have  heard  she  must  be  weak, 
without  will-power;  but  if  a  strong  will  were  behind  her, 
pushing  her  up,  she  might  be  able  to  get  on  her  feet  again. 
If  I  had  been  weak-willed  when  Tom  abandoned  me, 
where  mightn't  I  have  fallen?  I  might  have  been  like 
mother,  and  certainly  it  wouldn't  have  been  all  my  fault. 
It  is  a  crime  for  society  to  assume  arrogantly  that  one  sin 
— or  a  million,  for  that  matter — shuts  a  woman  out,  into 
outer  darkness.  So  long  as  there  is  power  in  her  to  live, 
life  may  be  turned  in  the  right  direction,  and  instead  of 
thrusting  her  down,  every  one  should  help  to  get  her  up 
and  steady  her  on  her  feet.  That  is  what  I  have  done  with 
others,  and  why  not  with  my  own  mother?" 

Grey  listened  intently  and  all  his  qualms  and  conven- 
tional quavers  were  swept  aside  from  the  path  of  this  in- 
trepid woman,  who  went  straight  toward  her  opportunity 
to  aid,  regardless  of  the  pitch  which  might  stick  to  her  own 
garments.  It  was  the  spontaneous,  eager  movement  of  her 
whole  being,  without  check  from  any  resistance  in  her 
mind.  Austin  Grey,  in  whom  the  resistant  side  was 
strong,  yet  appreciated  the  simple  nobility  that  her  action 
implied.  He  turned  to  look  in  her  face,  his  eyes  dark  and 
energetic  as  his  men  had  seen  them  before  a  charge. 

"Bless  you,  Bertha!"  he  exclaimed,  the  ring  of  high  ac- 
tion in  his  tone.  "I  will  do  everything  in  my  power  to 
help  you.  This  is  the  right  way  to  reform  the  world."  She 
trembled  from  head  to  foot  with  sudden  passionate  delight 
at  his  praise:  to  meet  his  approval  was  still  the  crown 
of  her  ambition. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

They  drove  up  to  the  old  farmhouse  slumbering  in.  the 
warm  spring  sunshine.  A  few  hens  picked  and  pecked  their 
way  around  the  vine-hung  stoop.  Bertha  insisted  on  get- 
ting out  alone. 

"No,  don't  move,"  she  said,  springing  lightly  before  him. 
"This  is  my  business." 

As  she  stood  at  the  door  in  the  vivid  sunlight,  her  bronze- 
gold  hair  coiled  at  her  neck  and  fluffing  around  the  fair, 
potent  face;  her  noble  figure  in  an  attitude  of  waiting 
force,  half-dreaming  eyes  glancing  here  and  there,  Austin 
Grey  received  an  impression  of  exhaustless  vitality,  of  mag- 
nificent possibilities.  "A  lost  life,"  indeed!  Rather,  a 
life  ju&t  begun,  a  life  with  all  to  gain,  and  every  faculty 
for  gaining  whatever  she  desired. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  small,  withered  woman  over 
seventy,  with  thin  white  hair,  and  indistinct  eyes.  She 
blinked  at  the  tall  figure  awaiting  her,  and  drew  back  with 
an  expression  of  fear. 

"Are  you  my  grandmother?'"  asked  Bertha,  bending  with 
a  sudden  impulse  of  gentleness. 

"Hey?"  ejaculated  the  old  woman,  half  closing  the  door. 
Bertha  drew  herself  up  to  full  stature  and  laid  her  hand 
on  the  panel. 

"Is  Mrs.  Bow  at  home?"  she  asked  formally. 

"That's  me." 

"Then  I'll  come  in,"  said  Bertha  in  a  tone  of  easy 
superiority,  opening  the  door  as  she  spoke.  The  grand- 
mother gave  way,  and  Bertha  entered  with  the  step  of  a 
princess.  Grey  threw  himself  back  in  the  buggy  as  the  door 
closed,  and  indulged  in  a  fit  of  silent  laughter.  "No  use 
trying  to  resist  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  flicked  the 
grass  with  his  whip. 

His  mind  amused  itself  while  he  waited  in  finding  meta- 


140  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

phors  for  the  impression  she  produced.  Her  nature  had 
the  tropical  quality  of  a  magnolia  tree  in  full  flower;  she 
shed  fragrance  on  the  air  in  largess  of  bounty.  Her  tem- 
perament reminded  him  of  a  changeable  silk  he  had  seen 
her  wear  in  Chicago,  full  of  unexpected  colors  as  movement 
gave  play  to  light  and  shade :  the  woof  was  love,  the  warp 
was  will,  the  whole  was  life.  But  far  beyond  the  attrac- 
tions of  nature  and  temperament  was  the  firm  cohesion 
of  her  being,  compact  to  a  quality  which  left  space  for  no 
loose  play  of  parts,  but  drove  intact  to  its  end — a  splendor 
of  impulsion  that  lifted  her  from  what  was  low,  base  and 
obscure,  to  prominence  and  power. 

Bertha  reappeared  presently,  head  tossing,  eyes  disdain- 
ful, a  most  imperial  manner  assumed  for  the  benefit  of  this 
insignificant  grandmother  who  had  turned  child  and  grand- 
child out  of  doors,  and  prided  herself  on  righteousness  in 
the  act. 

Grey  immediately  alighted,  for  Bertha's  mien  demanded 
the  utmost  deference,  and  the  wrinkled  old  woman  stepped 
forward  and  screened  her  eyes  from  the  sun  to  look  at  him. 

"Is  that  your  husband?"  she  asked  in  a  loud,  eager  whis- 
per, with  a  quick  accession  of  respect. 

"When  you  choose  to  come  to  see  me,  grandmother,  you 
shall  be  introduced  to  my  husband,"  said  Bertha  with  a 
queenly  air,  as  she  swept  down  the  steps.  Her  escort  went 
through  the  requisite  form  of  assisting  her,  and  then  turned 
to  the  straight-skirted  figure  in  the  doorway. 

"You  will  be  welcome,  madam,"  he  said,  lifting  his  hat. 
Then  he  got  into  the  buggy  rather  stiffly  and  they  drove 
away. 

"Well,"  he  remarked,  with  a  half-quizzical  look,  as  they 
turned  from  the  farm-gate  into  the  road,  "you  seem  to 
have  had  a  somewhat  breezy  interview." 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE! 

"Yes,  wasn't  it  absurd?"  replied  Bertha  at  once,  but  she 
did  not  meet  his  eyes.  "I  can  see  that  side  of  course,  but 
nevertheless  it  was  trying." 

"Indeed,  I  should  think  so,"  he  responded,  promptly 
sympathetic.  "Did  you  find  out  anything  about  your 
mother  ?" 

"No;  her  mother  doesn't  know,  or  wouldn't  tell.  She 
said  I  oughtn't  to  have  anything  to  do  with  her,  and  she 
wouldn't  help  me.  If  I  had  a  husband,  she  was  gracious 
enough  to  remark,  I  might  better  stick  to  him,  and  not  be 
running  after  my  mother  who  was  no  good.  My  mother !" 
she  exclaimed,  striking  her  hands  together  with  a  sudden 
passionate  gesture.  "How  she  must  have  rebelled  against 
such  a  woman !  I  should  have  run  away  just  to  get  rid 
of  her.  To  have  no  tenderness,  no  comprehension,  nothing 
but  the  hardness  of  a  nether  millstone  instead  of  a  mother's 
heart — it  is  enough  to  craze  a  girl.  What  right  had  her 
parents  to  bring  her  into  the  world  and  then  cast  her  off? 
They  forced  their  daughter  to  ruin  in  compelling  her  to 
abandon  her  child.  She  loved  me,  and  her  love  was  her 
one  safeguard;  when  I  was  torn  from  her,  the  holiest  in- 
stincts were  outraged  so  that  she  lost  everything.  She  left 
her  father's  house  and  sunk  lower  and  lower,  to  the  depths. 
Ah,  but  why  didn't  she  come  back  for  me  ?  In  her  place, 
I  should  have  taken  my  child  like  Hagar  and  thrown  my- 
self on  the  mercy  of  a  desert  world " 

Her  eyes  were  shining  with  angry  pity,  but  the  thought 
of  how  her  mother  had  abandoned  her  only  determined  her 
the  more  to  find  that  weak-willed  woman,  and  strengthen 
her  by  a  strong  grasp. 

"Let  us  drive  through  Milford ;  it  is  just  a  little  further," 
she  said,  dashing  the  tears  from  her  eyes;  "perhaps  we 


142  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

may  catch  a  glimpse  of  her.  One  of  the  girls  told  me  she 
saw  her  there  the  other  day." 

"How  did  the  girl  know?"  asked  the  man  of  the  world 
somewhat  sharply,  but  he  turned  in  the  direction.  Bertha 
desired. 

"By  her  resemblance  to  me,"  was  the  reply,  which 
silenced  further  question. 

They  drove  at  a  quick  pace  toward  the  county  town  and 
the  setting  sun.  Although  every  condition  differed,  it  re- 
minded Bertha  of  that  cold  drive  with  Tom  Colton,  also 
to  the  west.  Again  appeared  before  her  the  place  where,  it 
had  ended — girlhood  had  ended — that  bleak  hotel  parlor, 
everything  harsh  in  the  cold  light ;  ivy  on  the  walls,  red-hot 
stove,  an  atmosphere  of  something  wrong.  If  it  had  not 
been  so  cold,  perhaps The  bitter  misery  of  the  might- 
have-been  engulfed  her.  She  fought  it  off  presently  by 
repetition  of  the  words  which  were  now  her  talisman. 
"What  you  have  lost,  regain."  She  meant  to  regain  it,  her 
freedom.  The  logic  of  circumstances  certainly  pointed  to 
this.  What  other  mitigation  of  her  terrible  loss  could  there 
be?  Everything  combined  to  bring  her  to  this  practical 
issue:  her  childhood's  haunts,  her  guardian's  presence,  the 
teeming  springtide,  the  resurrection  of  life  from  the  grave 
of  hope,  the  very  cleanliness  of  the  little  cottage,  with  its 
bare  boards  and  tins  kept  as  Ma  would  have  wished  them, 
worked  in  her  to  this  end.  Oh,  to  be  an  uncontaminated 
girl  once  more,  to  be  relieved  of  that  jealous  obsession, 
to  be  unhampered  and  her  own ! 

"If  we  should  see  your  mother,  what  do  you  want  me 
to  do?"  he  broke  the  long  silence  by  asking  as  they  entered 
the  town. 

"Follow  her,"  replied  Bertha  promptly.  "Then  I  shall 
know  where  to  find  her  some  other  day."  She  was  on  the 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  143 

alert  now,  glancing  keenly  hither  and  yon  as  they  drove 
through  the  unkempt  streets,  lined  with  frame  houses  and 
shaded  by  scraggly  trees.  Teams  were  tethered  around  the 
post-office,  and  men  lounged  about.  The  pair  drove  away 
from  the  center  into  the  residence  part,  and  up  and  down 
the  poorer  quarters.  Bertha's  companion  was  just  saying 
it  was  no  use  to  continue  such  a  wild-goose  chase,  when  a 
tall  woman  turned  out  of  a  street  ahead  of  them  and 
sauntered  away. 

"I  wonder  if  that  can  be There  is  something  about 

her " 

Bertha  nodded  eagerly  in  answer  to  his  hesitating 
phrases,  and  chirruped  to  the  horse.  The  figure  was 
cloaked  and  had  a  long  mourning  veil  down  the  back. 
"Drive  past;  then  we  can  see,"  she  directed. 

They  did  so,  and  each  of  them  saw  at  the  same  moment 
the  utter  difference,  yet  still  the  striking  resemblance  to 
Bertha  herself. 

"Stop,"  she  said  at  once,  "I  must  speak  to  her." 

He  obeyed,  though  this  was  not  in  the  bond,  and  Bertha 
jumped  out.  The  woman  abreast  of  the  carriage  was 
etartled  by  the  plunge  of  this  young  creature  into  her  path. 
Frightened,  she  drew  back,  while  Bertha  exclaimed: 

"Mother!  don't  you  know  me?  I  am  sure  you  are  my 
mother."  She  caught  the  older  woman  by  the  arms,  and 
the  two  faces  confronted  each  other;  alike,  yet  singularly 
unlike.  Bertha's  eyes  were  clear  and  steady,  the  mother's, 
wavering  and  weak;  she  looked  distraught  in  the  grasp  of 
those  strong,  young  hands. 

"Your  mother?  Am  I  your  mother?"  she  said  in  a  be- 
wildered way.  "Then  you  are  my  little  Bertha,  my  first- 
born?" There  was  a  break  in  the  vacillating,  uncultured 
voice,  the  mother's  heart  was  asserting  itself.  The  nerve- 


144  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

less  fingers  caught  a  convulsive  hold  on  tKe  lappets  of 
Bertha's  cloak,  and  the  daughter  bent  forward  and  kissed 
her  with  fresh  young  lips.  Then  they  moved  on  slowly, 
arm  in  arm,  Bertha  supporting  her  mother's  somewhat 
shaken  form,  and  the  mother  looking  into  her  handsome 
daughter's  face  now  and  then,  eager  yet  abashed. 

Grey  followed  at  a  snail's  pace  in  the  distance.  His  leg 
ached,  it  was  time  for  dinner,  the  night-damps  were  com- 
ing on,  he  wanted  to  get  home.  So  this  was  the  meeting 
of  mother  and  child  after  some  twenty  years'  separation. 
Well,  much  good  might  it  do  them  both.  He  did  not  half 
like  his  own  part  in  the  affair.  If  Bertha  had  been  his 
wife — But  then  of  course  he  would  have  had  a  right  to 
uphold  her.  As  it  was,  he  could  see  how  from  Mr.  Colton's 
point  of  view — And  then  suddenly,  as  if  an  impertinent 
hand  thrust  aside  a  veil  to  let  in  prying  eyes,  the  world's 
view  of  things  obtruded  itself  upon  him.  The  twilight 
became  suddenly  full  of  venomous  tongues  that  maligned 
him  and  this  fair  woman  whose  reputation  had  been  main- 
tained at  such  a  costly  price.  How  could  he  have  been  so 
blind! 

The  figures  he  was  following  stopped  at  a  small  house. 
They  were  still  talking  earnestly  and  the  buggy  halted  at 
a  short  distance.  It  was  quite  dark  now  except  for  the 
subdued  glow  of  the  western  sky,  against  the  dim  radiance 
of  which  the  two  tall  figures  stood  outlined.  They  em- 
braced and  separated,  Bertha  saying  in  a  tone  of  authority : 

"I  shall  be  here  to-morrow,  you  understand,  at  ten.  Be 
sure  to  have  the  agent  here.  What  is  the  name  of  this 
street — Gifford?  You  may  rely  on  me,  mother.  Good- 
night," and  she  went  to  the  buggy. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  I  won't  get  out,"  said  Grey  apolo- 
getically, making  way  for  her.  "My  leg  is  bad." 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE          ,         145 

"I  have  kept  you  out  too  long,"  she  exclaimed  contritely, 
"I'm  very  sorry.  Whip  up  and  let  us  get  home  as  fast  as 
we  can." 

"Don't  worry.  It  is  of  no  consequence,"  he  reassured 
her.  They  drove  along  fast  for  a  while  in  silence.  At 
length  Bertha  drew  a  long  hreath  and  said: 

"It  is  as  I  thought;  she  needs  me.  I  came  just  at  the 
right  time.  The  man  with  whom  she  has  been  living  died 
a  short  while  ago.  He  left  her  almost  nothing,  and  she 
has  two  girls  to  support.  She  is  obliged  to  give  up  the 
house  in  a  few  days,  and  I  shall  take  them  back  to  town 
with  me." 

She  spoke  as  if  she  were  their  natural  protector,  and  had 
the  wealth  of  the  Indies  at  her  disposal.  A  quick  whimsical 
sympathy  for  Mr.  Colton  struck  General  Grey. 

"Do  you  mean  all  three?"  he  inquired. 

"Which  one  would  you  have  me  leave?"  she  asked  with 
some  asperity.  "  The  girls  are  six  and  nine ;  of  course  they 
must  go  with  mother,  and  they  can  get  a  better  education 
in  town." 

She  was  already  assuming  responsibility  with  the  ease  of 
strength.  Grey  admired  her  generosity,  but  the  complete 
ignoring  of  the  husband's  right  to  consideration  galled  the 
man.  Magnanimity  might  include  also  the  one  who  would 
have  to  support  all  these  illegitimate  relatives,  instead  of 
regarding  him  simply  as  a  money-bag. 

"With  Pa  and  Ma  there,  isn't  it  going  to  be  rather  a 
heavy  load  to  impose  on  Mr.  Colton  ?"  he  questioned  pres- 
ently. 

"Oh,  you're  feeling  sorry  for  him,  are  you?"  she  ex- 
claimed, rather  defiantly.  "Possibly  you  might  be  right  if 
I  were  going  to  throw  mother  and  the  girls  on  his  charity, 
but  I  know  him  too  well  for  that."  She  gave  a  hard 


14G  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE, 

laugh.  "No,  I  shan't  ask  him  for  anything  at  all.  Ill 
put  mother  in  some  place  where  she  can  earn  a  little,  and 
I'll  make  money  enough  with  my  pen  to  keep  them  going." 

Her  largeness  of  nature  quelled  criticism,  and  there  was 
a  stir  of  feeling  in  his  voice  as  he  said  simply: 

"You  are  a  good  woman,  Bertha." 

But  she  felt  a  chill  in  the  mental  atmosphere,  and  de- 
cided forthwith  to  go  back  to  town.  This  sort  of  thing 
could  not  last,  and  she  did  not  want  the  situation  to  wear 
threadbare ;  perhaps  already  it  was  becoming  a  little  shiny 
at  the  seams. 


CHAPTEB  XII 

THE  next  time  Grey  was  in  Chicago,  on  calling  at  the 
house  Bertha  had  occupied  he  found  it  vacant.  This  was  a 
disconcerting  shock.  He  inquired  next  door  if  anything 
were  known  of  Mrs.  Colton,  and  learned  she  might  be 
found  at  the  Lincoln  House.  There  he  met  Mr.  Harrison 
in  the  hall. 

"Sure,  sure,  Mrs.  Colton  is  here,"  he  cried,  shaking 
hands  heartily.  "That  is,  she's  stopping  here.  Send  up 
the  General's  card  to  Mrs.  Colton,  Clark.  Come  in  here 
and  sit  down,  General  Grey;  glad  to  get  a  glimpse  of  you. 
Yes,  she  came  here  at  once  on  leaving  Mr.  Colton." 

"Ah?    I  haven't  heard  from  her  for  some  tune." 

"You  don't  know  then "  the  proprietor  hesitated  a 

moment,  checked  by  an  eddy  of  discretion,  but  soon  swung 
out  into  the  current  again.  "Well,  it's  town  talk,  so  there's 
no  occasion  to  hold  my  tongue.  She  got  her  divorce  last 
month;  plea  was  drunkenness,  of  course.  Colton  made  no 
defense,  didn't  even  appear.  Queer,  that.  But  it  made  no 
difference ;  she'd  have  won  anyhow ;  she'll  always  win,  Gen- 
eral Grey.  Never  was  such  a  woman  for  going  right  ahead, 
in  spite  of  everything.  What  finally  drove  her  out 
was  that  Colton  tried  to  lock  her  in;  but  you  might 
as  well  try  to  lock  up  fire.  She  blazed  her  way  right 
through  to  freedom.  Got  a  hundred  dollars  a  month  ali- 
mony. It  mayn't  last  long,  though ;  likely  he'll  soon  drink 
himself  to  death.  But  want  of  money  never  hampers  her; 

147 


148  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

she  either  gets  it,  or  gets  along  without  it.  Whichever  it 
is,  the  question  of  money  troubles  her  less  than  any  woman 
I  ever  saw." 

"I  guess  that's  so.  It  is  the  end  that  interests  her,  not 
the  means,"  said  Grey,  turning  to  the  bellboy  who  entered 
saying  Mrs.  Colton  was  not  at  home,  but  would  General 

Grey  come  up  and  see Here  Pa  appeared,  a  tall, 

awkward  figure  hurrying  forward,  his  thin  face  set  in  deep 
wrinkles  of  pleasure. 

"How  d'you  do,  how  d'you  do!"  he  exclaimed,  seizing 
the  officer's  hand  in  both  of  his.  "This  is  good!  Come 
right  up.  Bertie's  out,  but  Ma's  on  edge  to  see  you,  and 
Miss  Agnes  is  there,  too.  Ever  met  her?  Well,  she's  worth 
meeting.  Come  right  along.  You'll  excuse  us,  Mr.  Har- 
rison; Mr.  Grey  is  an  old,  old  friend,  you  know." 

A  pleasant  sitting-room  with  many  of  Bertha's  posses- 
sions in  evidence;  sunshine  streaming  in  through  smoky 
moisture  that  gave  a  yellowish  mellow  light ;  Ma  still  knit- 
ting grey  army  socks,  and  getting  out  of  her  chair  stiffly 
as  Pa  opened  the  door — this  was  what  presented  itself  to 
Austin  Grey's  eyes.  Greetings  over,  however,  he  looked 
about  for  the  lady  he  had  been  told  he  should  see,  and 
thereupon  a  slight  figure,  with  dark,  dainty  head,  came 
forward  from  the  window  and  held  out  a  delicate  hand. 

"It  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  one  of  whom  I  have  heard  so 
much,  General  Grey,"  she  said  in  a  low,  well-bred  tone  of 
much  cordiality.  "I  am  Agnes  Sherwood." 

"My  gentle  correspondent,"  he  replied,  holding  her  slim 
fingers  a  moment  while  he  looked  attentively  at  Bertha's 
friend.  The  girl's  gray  eyes,  not  large  but  singularly  clear, 
and  beautifully  fringed,  met  his  gaze  with  one  less  inquir- 
ing but  more  intuitive.  Brought  face  to  face  with  Bertha's 
guardian  and  ideal,  she  was  satisfied.  On  both  sides,  in- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE        j         149 

deed,  congeniality  made  itself  promptly  felt  and  put  them 
at  ease. 

"Yes,  Bertie  got  her  divorce,"  said  Pa  temperately,  for 
of  course  that  which  interested  them  most  was  soon  the 
topic  in  this  group  of  genuine  people.  "I  guess  she  was 
right ;  she  could  hardly  have  done  different.  You  see,  Mr. 
Colton  stamped  rough-shod  over  every  sensibility  she  had. 
Time  and  again  she  flung  everything  she'd  ever  done  in  her 
face,  and  everything  her  parents  had  done,  and  cursed 
them  one  and  all;  no  woman  could  stand  it  forever.  Di- 
vorce is  a  sorry  thing,  Mr.  Grey,  but  sometimes  it  has  to 
happen.  He  only  reaped  what  he  sowed.  From  the  start, 
when  he  tricked  her  into  marriage,  to  the  end,  when  he 
locked  her  in  her  room,  he  just  used  her  for  his  own 
pleasure ;  so  it's  no  wonder  that  after  a  while  she  came  to 
the  conclusion  she'd  no  further  use  for  him;  what  else 
could  he  expect?" 

"He's  a  fearful  jealous  man.  I  never  saw  anybody  get 
into  such  rages,"  commented  Ma,  rocking  to  and  fro  as  she 
knitted.  "But  they're  a  worse  torment  to  him  than  to  any 
one  else.  I  used  to  think  some  time  he'd  go  stark  mad. 
It  won't  really  hurt  him  in  the  end  to  be  away  from  her, 
I  guess,  for  just  to  be  in  the  room  with  her  stirred  him  all 
up.  He  couldn't  get  anywhere  nigh  her  mind,  you  know, 
but  he'd  clutch  after  her  like  a  boy  chasing  a  butterfly, 
and  she'd  look  at  him  that  disdainful,  it'u'd  just  throw 
him  into  a  fury.  While  little  Lois  lived  she  put  up  with  it, 
but  afterwards  it  rasped  on  raw  flesh,  poor  child.  Yet,  you 
know,  Mr.  Grey,  there's  a  side  to  it  where  he  was  right." 

"Yes?  Where?"  asked  Bertha's  former  guardian.  He 
had  a  keen  respect  for  this  plain  woman's  wisdom. 

"Why,  he  was  her  husband,"  said  Ma,  laying  down  her 
knitting,  and  adjusting  her  big  spectacles  so  as  to  look 


160  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

4 

through  tHem  clearly,  while  she  spoke  with  decision.  "For 
reasons  sufficient  to  her  she  became  his  wife.  That  set  her 
a  duty  to  be  loyal " 

"And  wasn't  slie,  always?"  interrupted  Pa,  quick  in 
defense  of  his  beloved  child. 

"Oh,  she's  an  honest  woman,  my  dear;  we  all  know  that ; 
but  what  Fm  saying  is,  he  had  reason  to  feel  her  spirit 
toward  him  wasn't  wifely.  It  was  not.  He  knew  very 
well  she  wanted  to  get  away  from  him,  and  that  isn't  a 
wifely  frame  of  mind." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Austin  Grey;  "but  so  far  as  I  can 
understand  he  failed  absolutely  to  make  good  any  claim 
upon  her ;  on  the  contrary,  he  showed  himself  to  be  odious. 
Yet,  nevertheless "  He  hesitated,  paused. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Agnes,  her  soft,  clear  voice  a  rest 
to  the  ear,  "that  since  he  was  absolutely  incapable  of  rising 
to  her,  and  equally  incapable  of  dragging  her  to  him,  neces- 
sarily they  had  to  part.  It  is  the  sheer  logic  of  life." 

She  met  Grey's  doubtful  eyes  with  affirmation,  aware 
of  the  resistance  in  his  mind ;  but  before  he  found  words, 
Ma,  who  had  been  laboriously  working  out  her  thought, 
resumed : 

"Scripture  says,  the  Lord  thy  God  is  a  jealous  God,  and 
I  suppose  that  means  he  wants  us  to  love  him  faithful  for 
our  own  good.  Now  Mr.  Colton  was  jealous  of  Bertie  for 
himself, — there  he  was  wrong,  but  he  had  also  the  zeal  of 
love  to  keep  her  faithful,  and  there  he  was  right.  He 
loves  her,  Mr.  Grey.  Really,  he's  more  a  true  husband  than 
she's  a  true  wife,  though  she's  so  much  bigger  a  soul  in 
every  other  way;  but  you  see,  when  once  the  idea  of  dis- 
union is  let  in,  what  makes  marriage  true  is  gone." 

The  tender  old  eyes  looked  to  her  own  husband,  who 
faced  them  tranquilly.  The  perfect  conjugal  relation  of 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  151' 

this  simple  pair  had  long  been  a  joy  to  Grey,  and  he 
glanced  at  Agnes  Sherwood  now  to  see  how  it  affected  her. 
Plainly  she  felt  the  deepest  appreciation,  and  their  eyes 
met  in  understanding. 

"I  see,"  he  said  quietly.  After  a  pause  of  harmonious 
silence  he  recurred  to  what  Agnes  had  said. 

"You  approve  then,  of  the  divorce." 

"Absolutely,"  she  replied.  Her  tone  checked  his  breath 
a  moment,  so  convinced  was  it. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Pa,  looking  at  the  girl  affectionately. 
"Miss  Agnes's  testimony  was  so  to  the  point  that  the  judge 
gave  the  decree  at  once." 

"I'm  sorry  you  had  to  go  through  that,"  commented  Grey 
regretfully.  "I  should  think  there  must  have  been  plenty  of 
others  to  give  in  evidence.  It  couldn't  help  being  very  hard 
for  you."  To  picture  this  sensitive,  reticent  girl  made 
acquainted  with  unseemly  knowledge  in  the  vulgar  glare 
of  a  divorce  court,  hurt  him ;  why  didn't  her  parents  pro- 
tect her  better?  But  with  the  question  came  the  recog- 
nition of  a  decisive  character  in  her  that  would  not  yield 
in  matters  of  moment;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  devotion 
to  her  friend  would  override  other  considerations. 

"I  wonder  if  you  could  guess  what  she  said  when  we  left 
the  courtroom?"  asked  Agnes,  passing  over  his  comment 
with  a  faint  smile.  "It  was  exactly  like  her,  yet  it  took 
me  all  aback." 

"Tell  me,"  he  urged.  "I  never  attempt  to  guess  at  her; 
it  would  be  quite  useless." 

"You  find  it  that  way,  too,  do  you?  I  thought  perhaps 

you  had  known  her  so  long Well,  as  we  stepped  into 

the  street  she  turned  to  me,  her  face  bright  and  happy, 
saying,  'Come,  let's  go  to  the  matinee,  I  want  to  cele- 
brate/ " 


152  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"H'm!    Did  you  go?" 

"No.  I  am  far  from  having  such  elasticity.  It  had  been 
a  heavy  strain "  As  she  spoke,  a  sense  of  burden-bear- 
ing came  into  her  mien,  evidently  habitual  to  her,  and  the 
pallid  transparency  of  her  face  shadowed.  "The  matinee 
was  out  of  the  question  for  me.  We  compromised  on  going 
to  see  her  mother." 

"Do  tell  me  how  she  is  getting  on.  You  know  I  haven't 
heard  a  word  since  they  left  the  village." 

"Oh,  hasn't  Bertha  written?"  cried  the  girl,  distressed. 
"She  has  been  so  driven  and  upset,  you  see.  Yes,  Mrs. 
Harding  is  getting  on  very  well.  She  and  the  little  girls 
are  settled  in  a  large  room  not  far  from  here;  and  there 
is  enough  sewing  to  keep  her  busy.  I  run  in  often,  and 
of  course  Bertha  is  in  and  out  all  the  time." 

"I  don't  know  there's  anything  Bertie  ever  did,"  said 
Pa,  gazing  into  the  fire  meditatively,  "that  I  liked  better 
than  hunting  up  her  ma  and  helping  her  along."  Ma  shook 
her  head  with  considerable  doubt,  but  Pa  went  on  serenely. 
"It  may  be  she'll  fail,  it  may  be  she'll  win;  whichever 
way,  it's  worth  trying.  And  I  believe  she'll  win.  I  never'd 
have  thought  that  weak,  pleasure-loving  woman,  who  aban- 
doned her  little  child  to  strangers,  could  have  enough  in 
her  to  pull  up  as  she's  doing.  She's  sticking  to  her  part 
•  faithful.  Of  course  Bertie  helps  her,  and  so  does  Miss 
Agnes — they're  a  pair  of  angels  to  the  poor  soul — but  the 
main  thing  is  she's  willing  to  be  helped.  It  takes  two  to 
make  a  bargain,  you  know,  Mr.  Grey.  God  Almighty  him- 
self can't  help  you  if  you  don't  want  to  be  helped,  but  if 
you  do,  and  try  your  best,  he's  there  to  make  you  win." 

"That's  about  it,  Pa,"  acquiesced  Grey.  Then  turning 
again  to  the  girl.  "So  you  see  a  good  deal  of  Bertha's 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  153 

mother,  do  you?"  he  asked,  and  with  some  quiet  audacity 
added,  "How  does  Mrs.  Endicott  like  that?" 

"Oh,  she  likes  it  well  enough  now,"  replied  Agnes 
frankly.  "Of  course  at  first  she  didn't  approve  of  the  idea 
at  all,  condemned  it  utterly  in  fact.  The  three  show  them- 
selves to  be  of  a  quality  so  different  from  Bertha  that  my 
aunt  said  it  was  suicidal  for  her  to  shoulder  the  burden 
of  her  mother  and  half-sisters  while  she  was  getting  a 
divorce.  The  world  has  sensibilties,  she  contended,  which 
it  is  silly  to  fret  all  at  once;  presently,  if  so  maltreated, 
it  would  turn  and  rend  even  Mrs.  Colton.  These  are  her 
phrases,  and  they  worried  me  considerably,  I  confess;  for 
my  aunt  is  looked  upon  in  our  family  as  being  very  wise 
in  the  ways  of  the  world.  I  told  Bertha  about  the  matter 
for  I  thought  she  ought  to  know:  she  took  it  most  char- 
acteristically. She  holds  herself  entirely  aloof  from  any 
question  of  what  may  be  said;  not  that  she  doesn't  care, 
but  that  she  won't  mind ;  she  knows  she  is  in  the  right,  and 
if  the  world  pillories  her  for  trying  to  save  her  mother, 
why,  let  it;  that's  all.  Isn't  it  splendid  to  see  anybody 
drive  so  straight  to  an  end  ?"  The  girl's  face  glowed  with 
generous  enthusiasm  as  she  spoke.  "The  wisdom  of  her 
course  quickly  justified  itself,  for  my  aunt  is  warmer  than 
ever  toward  her,  and  the  world  looks  on,  ready  to  applaud 
whatever  Mrs.  Colton  may  undertake." 

"She's  a  wonder,"  agreed  Grey  heartily.  "Your  un- 
qualified support  must  be  a  great  comfort  to  her.  What- 
ever she  does  you  like,  don't  you  ?" 

"How  can  I  help  it?"  smiled  Agnes.  "She  is  so  mag- 
nificent!" Then  she  looked  up  searchingly  into  his  face, 
and  saw  the  dapple  of  doubt  there.  He  discriminated;  but 
to  Agnes,  Bertha  was  absolute.  There  was  nothing  relative 
about  her;  the  girl's  faith  was  white,  uncheckered  by  a 


1541  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

shadow.  It  pained  her  to  feel  the  difference  in  General 
Grey's  mind,  for  already  she  could  grasp  his  unspoken 
thoughts  as  well  as  those  that  came  to  the  ear,  and  could 
tell  beforehand  what  he  would  answer;  they  were  akin  by 
nature,  spontaneous  friends. 

Bertha  broke  in  presently  on  the  quiet  quartette  with 
a  sweep  of  fresh  air  in  her  garments,  an  eager  spring  to 
her  step:  she  had  learned  downstairs  whom  she  should  find. 
Grey  rose  to  meet  her,  inwardly  adjusting  himself  to  her 
electric  advent.  She  came  forward  swift-footed,  a  tall, 
pliant  figure,  still  in  black,  the  mellow  glow  irradiating 
hair  and  face  and  brilliant  eyes ;  they  shone  with  the  warm- 
est affection. 

"How.  good  of  you!"  she  exclaimed,  greeting  him  with 
a  hearty  clasp.  "Don't  you  dare  say  a  word ;  my  conscience 
just  bellows  at  me !  But  they've  told  you  ?"  Her  glance 
swept  the  four  faces,  and  she  saw.  "Of  course,"  she  went 
on,  conclusively.  "It's  better  so.  The  whole  matter  now  is 
closed  up,  gone;  I  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it." 
She  threw  out  her  hands  in  a  divesting  gesture,  amazingly 
expressive. 

They  sat  down  and  talked  about  a  hundred  things,  freely, 
keenly,  with  not  a  mention  of  Colton  nor  of  divorce. 
Anew  was  Grey  astonished.  A  divorced  woman  had  always 
figured  to  his  conservative  and  rather  haughtily  moral  mind 
as  an  object  to  be  either  shunned,  or  if  not,  then  pitied. 
Bertha's  presence  derided  pity,  and  as  to  shunning  her 1 

She  carried  herself  superbly,  the  weighted  aspect  entirely 
gone.  She  was  resolute,  gladsome,  strong,  exhilarating ;  the 
very  air  about  her  sparkled;  these  four  created  an  atmos- 
phere in  which  she  ravished  criticism. 

Nevertheless,  when  Austin  Grey  left  the  hotel,  and,  walk- 
ing through  the  cool  night  air,  looked  up  at  the  stars,  he 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  155 

shook  his  head.  He  was  one  for  whom  stars  could  shine 
through  the  murk,  but  the  murk  too  was  visible.  As  he 
went  onward  under  the  far  faint  gleams  that  mean  mighty 
worlds,  his  mind  reverted  to  the  spectacle  of  seeing  Bertha 
eat  cream.  She  luxuriated  in  cream;  she  held  the  ample 
spoon  to  her  lips  and  steeped  them  in  the  rich  liquid;  she 
sipped  it  slowly,  pressing  each  drop  as  if  caressing  it ;  she 
dwelt  upon  it  with  mind  as  well  as  sense;  she  laved  her 
spirit  in  it,  and  parted  from  it,  even  in  swallowing,  with 
regret.  Then  she  beamed  on  you  with  gold-flecked  eyes, 
her  coral  lips  moist  and  satisfied,  and  smiled  happily.  It 
was  a  triumph  of  gustatory  art;  but  such  art  was  not  of 
the  sort  to  attract  Grey. 

"How  you  do  favor  your  father!"  cried  Amanda  Hard- 
ing, sitting  dejected  on  the  side  of  the  bed  where  Bertha 
found  her  next  day  on  one  of  her  heartening  visits.  "You 
look  like  me,  maybe,  though  you're  a  deal  handsomer  than 
ever  I  was ;  but  he's  in  you.  You've  got  just  his  ways,  and 
his  cheery,  wilful  face."  She  sprung  up  suddenly  to  throw 
her  arms  around  the  tall  daughter,  and  sob  on  her  shoul- 
der. "  Oh,  how  I  did  love  him,  how  I  did  love  him !  And 
he  loved  me,  too !  He  would  have  married  me,  I  know, 
but  he  was  killed  before  he  could  get  back  to  me,  and  then 
they  made  me  give  you  up.  That  was  cruel  hard,  cruel; 
but  what  else  could  I  do?  Harry  Fay  said  he'd  take  me, 
but  he  wouldn't  have  you  about,  and  father  said  I'd  got 
to  marry  him,  or  get  out.  I  agreed  at  last,  but  after  I'd 
given  you  up  I  hated  the  very  sight  of  Harry,  nothing  could 
have  made  me  marry  him;  and  then  father  and  mother 
turned  me  out.  Oh,  life's  been  hard,  hard,"  she  wound  up, 
sobbing  anew. 

**Why  didn't  you  come  back  for  me?    I've  always  won- 


15G  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

dered  about  that,"  asked  Bertha,  holding  the  shaken  woman 
firmly  in  one  arm,  and  putting  back  the  straggling  hair 
from  her  face. 

"I  knew  you'd  have  better  care  where  you  was,"  the 
mother  said  eagerly,  lifting  her  head  to  exonerate  herself ; 
then  she  let  it  fall  again  with  the  words,  "and  I  couldn't 
take  you  into  that  life  with  me."  She  shuddered,  and 
Bertha  held  her  more  resolutely.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for 
Joe's  taking  pity  on  me  after  a  while,  I  don't  know  what 
I'd  V  done.  He  wouldn't  marry  me — of  course  I  wasn't 
good  enough  to  marry,"  she  interpolated  with  drooping 
shame — "but  he  promised  to  be  real  good  to  me.  and  he 
kept  his  word,  too.  But  now  he's  dead,  and  I'm  all  alone." 

"No,  you're  not,"  asserted  Bertha  in  her  courageous 
voice.  "I'm  here,  and  I'll  take  care  of  you,  and  you've  got 
the  girls  to  look  after.  Hush,  mother,  don't  cry;  I  hate 
tears,  and " 

"That's  just  like  your  father,  too,"  murmured  the 
woman,  trying  to  stop  her  sobs. 

"And  you're  not  to  say,  nor  even  to  think,  that  you're 
not  good  enough  to  marry.  You  are  plenty  good,  and  that's 
what  I  mean  to  have  you  do  one  of  these  days.  You're 
better  than  most  of  the  men,  I'll  warrant.  But  you  said 
you  had  some  things  of  father's;  come,  show  them  to  me 
now." 

Amanda  brought  forth  a  faded  plush  portfolio,  handling 
it  tenderly,  and  Bertha  opened  it  with  reverence.  Her 
dead  father.  Inside  were  many  verses  scrawled  in  a  young 
hand  on  scraps  of  paper;  verses  not  measured  and  metered 
according  to  the  laws  of  art,  but  showing  at  least  a  fresh 
eye,  and  an  ear  for  melody.  This  appealed  especially  to 
his  daughter. 

"They're  fine!"  she  cried,  after  she  had  read  several, 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  157! 

meeting  the  fond  reminiscence  of  her  mother's  eyes  with 
lustrous  pride.  "They  are  carols;  songs  from  the  fullness 
of  the  heart,  as  the  bird  sings,  as  the  earth  rejoices  in  the 
sunshine !  He  must  have  been  like  that ;  he  lived  himself 
straight  out ;  he  scorned  shams,  and  prevarications,  and  the 
law's  delays!"  She  drew  herself  up,  elated  to  be  such  a 
man's  child.  "Oh,  I  come  of  him,  that's  easy  to  see;  but 
I'm  yours,  too.  You  were  frank  and  outspoken:  you  met 

him  halfway,  and  you  loved.  To  love !"  She  caught 

herself  up  in  a  rapture  of  silence.  Her  mother  gazed,  half 
curious,  half  dull.  In  a  moment  Bertha  came  out  of  her 
vision,  and,  getting  to  her  feet,  gave  back  the  portfolio, 
retaining  half  a  dozen  of  the  pages.  "Oh,  you  shall  have 
them  back,"  she  promised,  seeing  the  robbed  look  on  her 
mother's  face.  "I'm  going  to  take  these  just  to  show  to  a 
friend.  I'll  copy  them,  but  you  shall  have  these  very 
papers  back,  never  fear." 

She  showed  them  to  her  guardian  when  next  she  saw 
him,  telling  him  what  she  had  gleaned  about  her  father. 
"Mother  has  very  little  to  tell,"  she  explained.  "Obviously 
the  emotional  engrossed  their  whole  attention  while  they 
were  together.  Why  shouldn't  it,  indeed?  Love  and  life 
— what  more  is  there  ?" 

She  threw  back  her  head  in  a  superb  challenge,  but  he 
did  not  lift  the  gage.  The  arrow  fell  spent  before  it  even 
touched  his  armor. 

"Rectitude,"  he  answered  quietly;  then  turned  to  some 
practical  issue,  and  she  realized  his  distance. 

As  the  best  she  knew,  she  aspired  to  him;  but  she  was 
too  thoroughly  in  earnest  with  life  to  resort  to  the  lures  of 
the  coquette  or  the  siren.  Never  did  she  compromise  with 
her  ideal ;  what  it  was  at  any  given  moment,  that  she  aimed 
at;  and  however  far  from  the  shining  mark  her  actions 


158  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

might  hit,  yet  "He  who  aims  at  a  star  shoots  higher  than 
he  who  means  a  tree."  But  it  was  equally  true  that  what 
she  could  not  command  after  due  effort,  she  deemed  did 
not  belong  to  her,  and  she  would  not  waste  herself  upon  it. 
Again  she  had  measured  by  Austin  Grey's  standard,  again 
was  she  found  wanting;  but  now  she  felt  it  was  his  fault, 
not  hers.  She  was  convinced  of  the  artificial  quality  in 
his  censure,  the  lack  of  freedom  of  individual  judgment 
it  implied.  It  made  her  assertive  of  her  own  integrity  of 
purpose,  serenely  conscious  that  she  would  triumph  over 
all  limitations  within  and  without,  but  in  her  own  way. 

Agnes  agreed  with  her,  though  General  Grey's  stand- 
point would  have  been  hers  but  a  short  time  before.  She 
believed  he  needed  enlarging  as  she  had  done.  One  may 
earnestly  disapprove  of  divorce  as  a  general  method,  yet 
recognize  that  for  certain  individuals  in  certain  circum- 
stances, it  is  the  best  action.  He,  on  the  contrary,  con- 
demned divorce  without  exception,  since  it  implies  liberty 
to  marry  again;  while  legal  separation  provides  all  the 
refuge  necessary  for  those  intolerably  abused.  He  held  to 
this  opinion  rigidly;  even,  as  Bertha  averred,  to  a  brittle 
degree. 

"Human  nature  isn't  made  that  way,"  she  announced  to 
Agnes  after  an  interview  that  had  tried  all  three.  She  was 
walking  up  and  down,  with  long,  independent  step,  hands 
behind  her  back,  eyes  flashing.  "If  no  latitude  is  permitted 
by  law,  the  law  will  be  broken,  that's  all.  Laws !  what  are 
they?  Just  petrified  custom,  a  dead  hand  laying  its  chill 
weight  on  life,  a  code  of  restrictions  alien  to  the  soul,  a 
despotic  set  of  rules  perpetually  knocked  over,  perpetually 
Bet  up  again,  to  be  bowled  down  by  the  next  generation. 
There's  no  eternal  verity  about  them,  yet  they  try  to  chain 
the  soul,  which  is  the  only  thing  that  does  persist.  Some 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  159 

one  says  the  Graces,  seeking  a  temple  that  would  not  fall 
down,  found  it  in  the  soul  of  a  man.  There's  the  durable 
for  you,  the  law-giver !" 

Agnes  listened  in  silence.  She  was  a  product  of  the 
old  ascetic  spirit  which  gave  the  ten  silent  centuries  to 
history.  Into  this  cloistered  quiet,  that  hid  but  did  not 
annul  the  passionate  truth,  Bertha  broke  like  a  flood  of 
sunlight,  disclosing  everything,  both  sacred  and  profane. 
Agnes  saw,  and  her  whole  life  was  altered ;  but  only  slowly 
did  she  understand.  She  was  clear  enough  about  her  daily 
actions  which  were  immaculate  as  ever;  but  when  it  came 
to  judgment,  her  conscience  was  mute,  or  its  emptiness 
simply  echoed  Bertha's  resounding  assertions.  This,  in  its 
turn,  had  the  effect  of  making  the  tatter's  opinions  gain  a 
validity  to  her  own  mind  they  would  not  have  had  other- 
wise. Everything  came  to  her  through  sense-perception, 
as  it  were;  she  must  see  her  own  mind  in  another's  for 
it  to  gain  full  recognition  from  herself.  Since  Agnes, 
who  had  been  verily  molded  by  the  legal,  the  decorous,  had 
nothing  to  say  against  her  breezy  dicta — why,  obviously 
they  were  true.  At  any  rate,  they  were  hers. 

General  Grey  took  leave  of  the  friends  with  a  sigh.  He 
went  so  far  even  as  to  warn  Bertha  not  to  be  cruel  to  her 
devoted  follower. 

"Cruel!"  cried  Bertha,  amazed,  and  drawing  herself  up 
proudly.  "I  love  her,  and  she  loves  me;  we  are  not  afraid 
of  cruelty  between  us,  are  we,  Agnes  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  yet  she  looked  at  Grey  with  ready 
comprehension.  "You  need  not  fear — for  either  of  us." 

"But  I  do  for  both,  in  different  ways,"  he  persisted. 
"It  is  a  perilous  sea  on  which  you  are  embarked,  but  only 
the  more  earnestly  do  I  wish  you  a  good  voyage." 

He  went  away  leaving  depression  behind.     Both  felt 


il60  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

disappointed,  but  in  Bertha  the  disappointment  was  not 
BO  much  with  him  as  with  destiny.  The  obverse  of  free- 
will, which  when  misdirected  makes  fate,  she  saw  in  her 
moments  of  depression,  but  without  recognizing  its  cause. 

"A  perilous  sea,  is  it?"  she  cried  now,  sinking  into  a 
cavernous  chair.  "What  else  has  life  been  to  me  ever 
since  my  little  boat  was  set  adrift  upon  it?  From  the 
first  I  have  been  the  buffet  of  wind  and  wave,  and  when- 
ever I  have  tried  to  accommodate  myself  to  the  world's 
desires,  and  have  taken  refuge  in  one  of  its  hoary  old  arks, 
I  have  been  flayed  for  it.  I  endured  a  brutal  husband  to 
the  utmost  verge  of  patience,  and  of  character,  and  when 
at  last  even  the  hypocritical  law  allows  me  freedom  from 
him,  my  friend  in  whom  I  trusted,  withdraws  from  me, 
and  calmly  decrees  that  'of  course'  I  shall  remain  tied  to 
this  loathsome  corpse  in  mind  if  not  in  body,  since  'of 
course'  I  shall  never  marry  again!" 

She  got  to  her  feet  and  paced  up  and  down,  her  long, 
free  stride  cramped  by  the  narrow  limits  of  the  space  al- 
lotted her.  There  was  defiance  in  every  line  of  her  dy- 
namic figure. 

"As  if  I  had  ever  been  really  married !"  she  cried  scorn- 
fully. "Doesn't  marriage  touch  souls  to  finer  issues  than 
those  of  flesh  ?  What  resemblance,  what  attraction,  is  there 
between  Tom  Colton's  soul  and  mine?  But  my  guardian, 
who  has  known  me  from  childhood,  can't  see  facts  as  they 
are:  he  looks  only  at  what  the  dissimulating  world  tells 
him  to  see.  Why  should  I  be  set  to  live  a  maimed,  one- 
legged  life  because  I  was  tricked  as  a  girl  ?  Nonsense !  It 
would  throttle  all  the  good  in  me.  This  stiff  notion  shall 
not  bind  my  hopes.  I  know  the  honesty  of  my  desires,  the 
demand  of  my  soul.  I  have  a  right  to  marry  some  man 
I  can  love  and  respect ;  a  good  man.  I  need  him  from  the 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  161 

core  of  my  heart  to  the  farthest  limits  of  the  mind :  I  need 
him  to  be  myself.    I  have  a  right  to  live  and  I  will !" 

She  drew  herself  up  to  her  stateliest  height,  the  embodi- 
ment of  dauntless  resolve.  Agnes  gazed  at  her,  speechless. 
She  would  have  been  ground  to  ignominious  powder 
by  the  events  that  had  served  but  as  stepping-stones  to 
Bertha.  This  splendid  woman  had  been  rejected  from  in- 
fancy ;  yet  by  sheer  life,  resolute  to  its  end,  she  had  become 
what  she  was.  This  accomplished,  she  stood — intrepid, 
ready,  the  spring  of  endless  achievement  in  her  energetic 
wffl. 


PART  II 

"AH  me!  how  sweet  is  love  itself  possessed, 
When  but  love's  shadows  are  s&  rich  in  joy!" 

— SHAKESPEABE. 

"Joy  in  Thy  world  divine, 
'And  the  body  like  to  Thine; 
Pride  in  the  mind  that  dares 
To  scale  Thy  starry  stairsf 
Rising,  at  each  degree, 
The  least  space  nearer  Thee; 
'Strength  to  forget  the  ill, 
So  Thy  good  to  fulfil; 
Freedom  to  seek  and  find 
All  that  our  dreams  designed; 
'Driven  by  Thine  own  goads 
Forth  on  a  thousand  roads; 
Patience  to  wrest  from  Tim0 
Something  of  Truth  sublime, 
Or  of  Beauty  that  shall  live, 
We  beseech  Thee — give!" 

— TAYLOR. 

CHAPTEE  XIII 

FOR  a  while  Bertha  lay  in  haven  under  cool  grey  skies. 
The  change  from  the  degrading  turmoil  of  her  life  with 
Colton  to  this  peace  worked  upon  her  a  ministerial  effect. 

163 


164  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Response  to  any  fresh  appeal  was  a  potent  factor  in  her 
constitution.  Now  the  screeching  discords  which  had 
jangled  her  whole  being  out  of  tune  were  calmed  into 
silence,  and  the  harmony  to  which  her  life's  music  was 
set  could  resume  its  major  key. 

Agnes  was  much  with  her,  and  the  devotion  of  the  girl's 
love  inexpressibly  sustained  the  woman.  They  met  also 
in  the  good  work  of  reinstating  Bertha's  mother  in  her  own 
esteem  and  in  the  world's  eye,  and  it  went  forward  with 
cheerful  alacrity.  Bertha  besides  put  in  many  hours  of 
daily  labor  as  sub-editor  of  the  paper  to  which  she  had  long 
been  a  contributor.  The  pay  though  not  essential  was  con- 
venient; and  idleness  had  for  her  no  perennial  charm. 
What  she  could  not  live  without  was  a  vent  for  energy,  a 
medium  of  expression.  The  fact  that  money  followed,  how- 
ever, was  of  great  value  to  her  mind,  for  it  meant  recog- 
nition. Exactly  so  much  were  her  efforts  worth  to  the 
world;  hard  coin  gave  the  measure  as  no  estimate  or  flat- 
tery could.  Moreover,  the  approval  of  the  world  was  no 
slight  consideration  to  her,  though  she  defied  it  with  a  light 
heart  on  occasion :  habitually  she  required  it  in  order  that 
she  might  have  confidence  in  herself.  Won,  it  established 
her  validity;  withdrawn,  she  was  restless  until  it  was  re- 
gained. At  this  time,  however,  she  was  in  the  full  flush 
of  pride  and  self-confidence ;  even  arrogance.  Short  of  the 
grave,  she  felt  her  will  could  govern.  And  what  she  wanted 
she  believed  in  with  a  spontaneous  fulness  that  swept  her 
forward  like  a  mighty  wind. 

One  July  evening  she  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  dine 
with  Mrs.  Endicott.  This  lady's  interest  waxed  rather  than 
waned,  for  whatever  Bertha  Colton  did  the  world  noticed : 
motion  catches  the  eye,  and  she  moved ;  there  was  no  deny- 
ing that.  Keen  was  Mrs.  Endicott's  scrutiny  to  catch  her 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  165 

in  some  misstep,  and  never  was  there  one  who  lavished 
opportunities  for  such  triumph  more  than  Bertha;  but 
the  curious  part  of  it  was  that  it  made  no  essential  differ- 
ence. Any  slips  were,  like  those  of  a  skater,  turned  into 
an  easy  glide  that  bore  her  freely  onward.  Where  had  she 
ever  learned  the  trick  of  carrying  the  world  along  as  a 
comet  its  tail?  Often  did  the  worldly  dame  ask  herself 
the  question,  but  it  remained  unanswered :  a  fact  which 
did  not  in  the  least  prevent  her  from  forming  part  of  the 
caudal  appendage. 

The  day  before  the  dinner  something  new  had  sprung 
up,  and  she  hastened  to  write  Mrs.  Colton  about  it. 

"Congratulate  me,  dear  Bertha,"  wrote  Mrs.  Endicott, 
"Ethan  Carruthers  is  passing  through  town,  and  will  come 
to  my  little  dinner.  Of  course  you  know  of  him :  his  bril- 
liancy not  alone  as  a  statesman,  but  as  a  man,  is  renowned. 
My  humble  table  will  be  like  a  fly  in  amber  between  you 
and  him.  Do  look  your  prettiest,  and  talk  your  best;  he 
is  a  connoisseur  of  feminine  charms,  I'm  told.  With  such 
actors  on  the  stage  the  rest  of  us  will  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  form  an  appreciative  audience." 

This  announcement  stirred  Bertha  to  a  strange  degree. 
She  could  hardly  sleep  that  night;  she  was  impatient  for 
the  next  day  to  come,  and  then  for  it  to  pass,  so  that  the 
meeting  with  this  stranger  should  be  no  longer  retarded. 
She  put  on  a  new,  rose-colored  dress,  that,  after  the  wear- 
ing of  black,  assuaged  a  hunger  within  her;  and,  as  she 
had  arranged  to  bring  back  Agnes  to  spend  the  night — 
always  a  delightful  prospect — the  prelude  was  full  of  chords 
that  stirred  anticipation. 

Nevertheless  the  party  had  already  gathered  when  she 
floated  into  the  presence  of  the  seven  with  a  serenity  of 
attraction  that  captured  every  eye.  Mrs.  Endicott  and 


166  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Agnes  she  greeted  warmly,  but  her  glance  flashed  to  the 
one  she  came  to  meet — a  tall,  well-proportioned  man,  with 
dark  hair,  Greek  features,  and  almost  black  eyes.  These 
were  fixed  upon  her  intently,  and  she  saw  in  them  at  once 
the  leap  of  a  challenge  so  prompt  it  took  her  breath. 

Mrs.  Endicott  was  wise  in  seating  her  chief  guests  at 
opposite  sides  of  the  table,  but  the  men  beside  Mrs.  Colton 
had  small  chance  of  gaining  her  attention.  Mr.  Preston, 
the  host  of  the  notable  politician,  found  his  opportunity 
in  conveying  low-voiced  information  about  Carruthers. 
"Second  term  in  Congress;"  "marked  ability;"  "great  in- 
fluence in  his  party;"  "speeches  carry  people  off  their 
feet;" — these  fragments  remained  in  her  mind,  though  she 
hardly  knew  afterwards  how  they  got  there.  She  was  hav- 
ing incontrovertible  evidence  of  his  power,  and  she  hung 
on  his  words  with  avid  ears.  He  had  the  fire  in  look  and 
speech  which  enchains  attention ;  and,  this  once  given,  one 
was  drawn  as  by  the  draught  of  flame.  But  she  had  enough 
of  the  positive  in  her  to  resist,  and  the  play  of  forces 
awakened  in  her  mind  ideas  and  happy  expressions  that 
soon  left  the  field  to  them  alone.  Once  away  from  the 
table  they  yielded  to  the  electric  current  that  had  insist- 
ently established  itself  between  them,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  evening  in  eager  exchange  of  ideas,  without  a  thought 
for  others.  Agnes,  fretted  by  a  persistent  lover  who  failed 
to  make  himself  acceptable,  wondered  what  in  the  world 
Bertha  was  finding  to  engross  her  so  in  this  dashing 
stranger.  She  was  incapable  of  jealousy,  but  she  had  a 
premonition  of  loneliness. 

It  was  a  glorious  moonlight  into  which  Bertha  and  Agnes 
stepped  about  eleven  o'clock,  escorted  by  Mr.  Lansom ;  Mr. 
Carruthers  had  been  torn  away  earlier  by  his  friends. 
Bertha  walked  along  careless  of  footing,  with  her  face  lifted 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  167 

to  the  sky  which  away  from  the  moon  was  powdered  by  the 
diamond-dust  of  stars.  No  lamps  were  lighted,  and  on  such 
a  night  as  this  they  were  not  needed.  She  moved  as  if 
she  were  queen  of  the  heavens,  and  her  soft  gown  and  white 
wrap  were  as  clouds  around  her. 

"Do  come  down  to  earth,  Bertha,"  said  Agnes  presently, 
somewhat  petulant  under  the  pressure  of  the  circumstances 
her  lover  thought  propitious.  "Here  are  Mr.  Lamson  and 
I  dying  to  know  what  you  think  of  Mr.  Carruthers.  Is  he 
going  to  be  our  next  president?" 

"He  might  well  be,"  she  answered,  while  her  lips  curved 
softly,  and  her  eyes  were  still  uplifted.  "Nothing  is  be- 
yond him." 

"H'm!  Is  he  so  great  as  all  that?"  queried  young 
Lamson. 

"He  is  great;  his  ambition  need  halt  at  nothing." 

"Well,  they  say  he  doesn't  halt  at  anything,"  observed 
the  young  man  with  a  slight  laugh.  "But  he  is  certainly 
brilliant — when  you  bring  him  out." 

After  they  had  reached  the  hotel  and  gone  upstairs, 
Bertha  drew  Agnes  on  to  the  little  balcony,  for  to-night 
only  the  ample  spaces  of  nature  suited  her  mood.  They 
stood  in  silence  a  few  moments  watching  the  moon,  Agnes's 
face  gathering  the  wistful  sadness  that  was  its  habitual  ex- 
pression in  repose ;  then  out  of  the  silence  Bertha  spoke : 

"I  am  going  to  marry  that  man,"  she  said. 

A  thunderbolt  precipitated  from  the  blue  could  not  more 
have  dazed  her  friend. 

"What  man?"  she  gasped. 

"Ethan  Carruthers."  The  name  was  spoken  with  calm 
exultance  as  if  it  were  a  kingly  title. 

"What  do  you  mean?    What  are  you  saying?"  cried  the 


168  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

bewildered  girl,  standing  away  a  little  to  scan  Bertha's 
rapt  face. 

"I  am  saying  what  I  mean,"  replied  the  woman  proudly, 
looking  down  an  instant  to  let  her  starry  eyes  meet  those 
of  Agnes.  "I  shall  marry  Ethan  Carruthers.  Love  stood 
ready  to  leap  forth  the  instant  my  heart's  door  should  be 
opened;  he  has  opened  it  to-night." 

"But — but "  stammered  Agnes.  "You  have  only 

just  seen  each  other ;  you  can't  say — how  do  you  know " 

She  broke  off  in  helpless  confusion. 

"Oh,  that  is  all  quite  plain,"  was  the  answer,  with  a  little 
laugh  for  such  futile  questions.  "Words  are  useless  things 
when  the  soul  sees."  Her  gaze  was  again  uplifted.  "I 
shall  marry  him;  he  is  the  good  man  I  have  always  de- 
sired;" and  her  voice  sunk  into  a  murmur  of  delicious 
self-communing. 

Agnes  made  no  further  queries;  it  was  impossible  to 
explain.  The  revelation  was  like  a  dazzling  comet  sud- 
denly flashing  into  sight ;  one  could  only  look  and  wonder. 

The  next  day  at  the  earliest  permissible  hour  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers called  on  Mrs.  Colton.  Her  vivid  personality  had 
made  a  glowing  impression  which  forbade  him  to  put  her 
for  an  instant  out  of  his  mind.  He  inquired  about  her 
closely  from  his  friends,  who  laughed  at  his  conspicuous 
infatuation,  and  he  was  fairly  well  acquainted  with  her 
history  when  he  was  shown  into  the  hotel  parlor.  He  had 
to  wait  but  a  few  minutes,  for  she  was  confidently  expect- 
ing him.  The  knock  that  announced  his  card  was  to  her 
like  the  rising  of  the  curtain  on  a  first  night ;  all  previous 
experience  had  been  but  dull  rehearsals  for  this  supreme 
hour. 

She  came  downstairs  with  the  swift,  smooth  descent  of 
a  swallow,  her  figure  draped  in  soft  white  that  brought  to 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  169 

view  all  the  beauty  of  her  coloring;  eyes  radiant,  and  a 
smile  of  pleasure  on  her  full  lips.  Ethan  Carruthers,  him- 
self like  an  old  sculpture  animated  into  vivid  life,  thrilled 
as  he  caught  sight  of  her.  He  met  her  at  the  doorway, 
and  pressed  her  hand  close.  His  dark  eyes  greeted  hers 
warmly,  and  an  instant  emotional  comprehension  flashed 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"Though  I  saw  you  last  night  for  the  first  time,"  he 
said,  in  a  low,  impassioned  voice,  while  they  crossed  the 
room  together,  "you  are  as  familiar  to  me  as  my  heart's 
desire.  We  have  met  often.  Was  it  in  dreams,  or  in 
reality?" 

She  made  no  reply,  but  a  smile  as  of  one  listening  to 
enchanting  music  played  about  her  lips. 

"If  it  was  a  dream,  it  was  fair,  but  the  reality  exceeds 
it,"  he  went  on.  "  'A  substitute  shines  brightly  as  a  king 
until  a  king  be  by ;  and  then  his  state  empties  itself  as  doth 
an  inland  brook  into  the  main  of  waters/  '• 

His  deep  voice  stirred  her  more  than  anything  she  had 
ever  known,  and  his  ardent  eyes  caused  her  eyelids  to  flut- 
ter and  fall.  A  suffocating  sweetness  of  sensation  made  her 
pale  suddenly  as  she  sat  down;  he  drew  a  chair  close  to 
hers,  feasting  his  eyes  the  while. 

"I  don't  know  why "  she  began  to  murmur. 

"There  are  some  things  not  to  be  explained,"  he  inter- 
rupted, though  she  felt  it  no  interruption;  "they  exist, 
that  is  all."  She  nodded  slowly,  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  har- 
monious features  as  on  beauty  that  compels.  "Our  meet- 
ing is  one  of  these  things,"  he  continued.  "It  would  have 
made  no  difference  were  the  whole  earth  between  us,  I 
should  have  found  you.  We  are  together ;  what  remains  ?" 
He  paused,  but  she  could  make  no  answer.  He  took  her 


170  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

hand,  folding  it  between  his,  and  added  in  a  low,  thrilling 
tone,  "Naught  remains  but  to  enjoy." 

She  quivered,  but  she  withdrew  her  hand.  Not  so  lightly 
was  she  to  be  won,  and,  instantly  responsive,  he  put  his 
appeal  one  step  higher. 

"  For  years,"  he  said,  "  I  have  read  whatever  I  could  find 
that  you  wrote.  I  gloried  in  your  eloquence  as  though  it 
were  my  own :  now  I  see  why." 

"You  had  no  need  of  borrowed  eloquence,"  she  re- 
sponded, veering  away  from  this  masterful  claim,  though 
she  felt  that  a  joyous  fate  had  met  her  at  last  and  bade 
her  stand  and  deliver. 

"Nor  did  I  borrow  when  I  used  your  words,"  he  re- 
turned. "They  were  mine  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world." 

His  readiness  delighted  her,  but  the  recoil  of  her  in- 
dividuality pushed  her  from  him  for  the  moment.  "See," 
she  said,  moving  her  chair  a  little  away,  a  distance  he 
allowed  to  remain,  bridged  by  his  gaze.  "I  brought  down 
the  book  I  mentioned  last  night.  You  said  you  did  not 
know  the  poem  'Expression'?" 

"No;  pray  read  it,"  he  replied,  his  eyes  upon  her. 

"I  will,  for  I  like  it,"  she  said;  "it  expresses  what  I 
feel." 

"Then  I  shall  listen  with  my  heart." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  and,  in  a  voice  to-day  sud- 
denly enriched,  she  read : 

"God's  thought,  hinted  in  thy  soul's  creation, 

Writ  out  in  cipher  whereunto  the  key 
Thou  alone  boldest,  this  thy  generation 

Has  need  of  knowing,  and  requires  of  thee. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  171 

"Pis  the  world's  secret,  and  the  years  are  knocking 
At  thy  life's  portal,  clamoring  for  their  right ! 

Wilt  thou  defraud  them,  still  in  darkness  locking 
God's  thought  unuttered  and  repressed  its  might?"1 

She  underlined  these  words  with  all  the  force  of  her 
impulse,  never  so  great  before,  to  use  to  the  full  every 
mode  of  expression.  He  seized  her  thought  and  would 
have  taken  her  into  his  arms,  but  for  the  check  put  upon 
him  by  the  reverence  he  saw  in  her  nature.  He  had  not 
expected  to  meet  God  here.  She  went  on: 

"Give  all  out  clearly,  making  grand  confession 
Of  the  true  life  within  thee !    So,  thy  soul, 

Through  the  stern  granite  of  outside  compression, 
Shall  come  at  length,   God's  thought,  complete  and 
whole." 

She  looked  up  with  shining  eyes  as  she  closed  the  book, 
seeking  his  approval,  but  his  gaze  did  not  meet  hers.  It 
was  downcast,  and  a  singular  expression  was  on  his  hand- 
some face.  He  was  adjusting  himself  to  a  further  per- 
spective in  this  sensuous,  intelligent  woman ;  she  had  a  soul 
as  well.  From  the  very  fact  that  it  was  an  unknown  quan- 
tity to  him,  it  gave  her  a  new  and  deeper  fascination. 
Not  without  significance  was  his  perpendicular  profile,  and 
Greek  mouth  curving  from  corner  to  corner  like  Cupid's 
bow,  with  the  darts  of  fitting  words  sped  from  the  lips. 
She  and  he  were  curiously  alike  in  many  outward  ways; 
while  within,  each  saw  in  the  other  the  realization  of  an 
ideal. 

"Yes,"  said  Carruthers  presently,  looking  up  to  find  her 
eyes  resting  on  him  in  a  dreamy  haze.  "  'Make  grand  con- 


172  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

fession  of  the  true  life  within  thee/  That  is  the  fearless 
way,  the  best  way.  And  is  there  any  life  so  true  as  love?" 

"Perhaps  not;  perhaps "  She  hesitated,  feeling  the 

rush  of  strong  waters  lifting  her  feet 

"Ah,  let  me  teach  you  I"  he  urged,  with  a  leap  of  his 
eyes  to  hers. 

But  she  found  her  feet  again  and  stood  firm  in  the 
stream.  "Nay,  you  mistake  me,"  she  answered.  "My 
thought  was  that  truth  is  as  vital  as  love." 

"What  truth  is  so  vital  as  love?"  He  leaned  forward, 
bringing  to  bear  upon  her  his  whole  will,  passionately 
charged  with  feeling. 

"Can  love  be  so  swift  yet  true?"  she  murmured,  with  a 
timidity  entirely  new  to  her. 

"Ay,  you  know  it  can.  It  takes  but  an  instant  for  eyes 
to  see  what  it  may  have  taken  aeons  to  prepare  for  and  a 
lifetime  to  form.  Ah,  you  recognize  the  thought.  I  don't 
express  it  as  well  as  you  did,  but  your  poems  come  back 
to  my  mind  in  your  presence  to  tell  me  of  the  soul  which 
is  within  this  body." 

As  he  spoke  them  the  words  were  an  eloquent  compli- 
ment, and  she  blushed,  the  warm,  gentle  tide  creeping  up 
throat  and  face;  he  watched  it  rise  with  triumphant  de- 
light. 

"Haven't  you  some  poems  of  your  own  to  read  to  me?" 
he  went  on,  letting  voice  say  one  thing,  speech  another.  A 
medium  of  communication  was  establishing  itself  between 
them  that  made  words  of  slight  importance.  Still,  as  she 
had  implied,  the  mind  also  requires  food. 

"Those  old  verses?  They  are  not  worth  your  time,"  she 
returned,  feeling  that  only  now  could  she  write  something 
worth  while;  previous  expressions  had  become  suddenly 
obsolete. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  173 

"You  have  invaded  my  time,"  he  replied,  his  large,  in- 
tense eyes  upon  her  face.  "I  can  make  good  no  claim 
upon  it:  it  is  yours  to  do  with  as  you  will." 

His  words,  each  time  so  unexpected,  yet  when  spoken 
just  what  she  would  have  him  say,  checked  her  usual  flu- 
ency. She  rose  to  cover  a  sense  of  confusion — quite  un- 
wonted, but  delicious  for  all  its  strangeness — and  once  on 
her  feet  had  no  reason  to  give  except  as  she  said: 

"Will  you  come  up  to  my  study,  then?" 

He  accepted  with  an  alacrity  that  confused  her  more 
than  ever,  and  she  took  refuge  in  formalities. 

"My  papers  are  all  there,"  she  explained  as  they  crossed 
the  hall;  "but  you  must  not  let  the  author's  vanity  in- 
trude too  far  and  detain  you  unduly." 

"Nothing  is  due  save  my  allegiance  here,"  he  answered 
as  she  motioned  him  to  precede  her  upstairs. 

When  they  reached  the  pretty  room  it  was  empty, 
shadowy,  and  fragrant  with  flowers.  He  paused  on  the 
threshold,  looking  about  him  with  warm  eyes.  As  she 
passed  he  caught  her  hand,  and,  bending,  pressed  it  to 
his  lips.  "The  first,"  he  murmured,  and  the  almost  un- 
heard comment  made  her  quiver  from  head  to  foot. 

She  went  about  the  room,  shading  the  table  from  a 
stray  sunbeam,  or  putting  a  chair  in  place;  and  to  the 
man,  banqueting  through  his  eyes,  it  seemed  that  so  soft, 
so  light,  must  have  been  the  steps  of  Aphrodite;  so  in- 
stinct with  life  in  every  line  and  limb  was  the  goddess  who 
gave  birth  to  Eros. 

She  hovered  from  one  thing  to  another,  unable  to  bring 
herself  to  sit  down.  She  was  trying  to  queen  it  over  those 
rebellious  vassals  in  her  nature  that  sought  to  master 
her.  His  readiness  ran  fleet-footed  ahead  of  hers;  it  en- 
chanted, but  it  made  her  afraid. 


174  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

A  bunch  of  roses  she  had  worn  the  evening  previous 
stood,  carefully  vased,  on  the  table  among  her  books  and 
papers.  He  recognized  the  half-faded  flowers  instantly, 
and  lifted  them  to  his  face,  his  eyes  shining  over  them  on 
her.  She  felt  those  eyes  to  the  depths  of  her  being;  they 
drew  her  as  she  had  seen  others  drawn  to  her,  but  as  she 
had  never  herself  been  drawn.  Again,  for  a  moment,  the 
electric  current  worked  to  repel ;  she  tried  hard  to  assume 
her  usual  manner,  and  to  banish  fear. 

"I  receive  my  friends  here,"  she  said,  smiling  rather 
tremulously,  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  high-backed  writ- 
ing-chair. 

He  made  no  reply  nor  motion  until  she  slowly  settled 
into  the  seat,  half-reluctant  in  surrender.  Then  he  put 
the  flowers  on  the  table,  took  a  chair  quite  near  her,  and, 
making  a  gesture  toward  the  roses  while  he  gazed  deep 
into  her  eyes,  he  said : 

"In  my  dreams  last  night  you  were  with  me ;  and  then 
you  said  you  loved  me." 

Her  head  drooped,  but  his  gaze  held  her,  demanding  a 
reply. 

"And  you  were  with  me,"  she  whispered. 

The  next  instant  their  lips  met,  and  love  sprung  up  full- 
etatured  at  the  touch. 


CHAPTER  XlVi 

AGNES  went  East  on  a  visit  to  relatives  shortly  after 
Bertha  and  Carruthers  met.  She  left  largely  to  escape 
young  Lamson's  importunities,  which  were  strengthened  by 
the  urgings  of  her  parents  and  Mrs.  Endicott,  and,  more 
potent  than  all  others,  by  Bertha.  Agnes  felt,  indeed,  as  if 
every  one  were  against  her,  and  that  she  must  cut  loose 
for  a  while  in  order  to  be  sure  of  her  own  ground. 

Bertha  had  pushed  the  matter  to  the  furthest  limit. 
Nothing  pleased  her  more  than  to  see  in  others  (unless  it 
were  to  feel  in  herself)  the  stirrings  of  the  tender  passion. 
She  fostered  love  affairs  as  the  sun  fosters  the  spread  of 
life  in  the  seed :  nature  so  ordered,  intelligence  should  sec- 
ond, sympathy  must  bring  to  pass.  She  did  her  best  to 
get  every  one  to  marry,  for  celibacy  was  to  her  a  mutila- 
tion— she  focused  an  unmarried  person  as  a  cripple.  Most 
of  all  did  she  wish  Agnes  to  wed.  "Better  marry  unhap- 
pily," she  insisted,  "than  not  at  all.  You  need  to  be  lifted 
off  your  narrow  little  feet  and  swept  out  into  the  great 
main  of  life.  You  stagnate  in  a  bayou  until  you  marry. 
Do  it  now.  Take  this  young  fellow;  he's  right  enough. 
You  can  make  something  of  him ;  but  the  important  point 
is,  marriage  will  make  something  of  you.  It  is  the  only 
way  you  can  complete  yourself,  sweet." 

Agnes  was  powerfully  affected  by  these  urgings.  In 
truth,  the  balance  of  her  nature  was  disturbed  by  them, 
and  the  consciousness  of  this  threw  her  into  despair.  The 

175 


176  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

tension  within  made  her  personality  so  dynamic  as  to  at- 
tract not  only  one  but  several  lovers;  for  children  chase 
fireflies  because  they  glow.  Love  took  on  a  sultry  sound  to 
her;  she  suffocated  under  its  unwished-for  protestations. 
Her  individuality  threw  out  sharp  quills  to  fend  undue 
pressure  from  her  soul ;  she  would  have  liked  to  cry,  Hands 
off!  to  the  world.  Not  getting  her  wish,  she  fled.  Once 
away,  by  instinct  she  turned  to  the  thought  of  General 
Grey,  and  dwelling  there  her  soul  calmed. 

When  he  learned  that  she  was  in  the  East  he  came  to 
see  her ;  eager  to  hear  of  their  friend,  glad  to  renew  asso- 
ciation with  the  girl  herself,  for  each  found  an  unusual 
congruity  in  the  other.  In  him  the  aspirations  of  Agnes 
were  made  manifest,  not  by  counterpart,  as  in  Bertha,  but 
by  the  simplicity  of  fruition.  Becoming  acquainted  with 
his  life,  she  felt  she  could  have  trodden  every  step  of  the 
way.  It  was  a  deep,  steadying  comfort  now  to  be  in  his 
presence;  his  unswerving  fidelity  to  his  wife  was  a  rock  on 
which  she  could  lean,  no  less  than  it  was  a  steadfast  star 
above  troubled  waters.  In  his  memory,  it  is  true,  was  the 
joy  of  consummation,  which  to  her  might  ever  be  denied; 
but  until  she  could  feel  that  a  similar  ideal  union  of  soul 
with  soul  was  promised,  never  would  she  marry.  This  was 
the  determination  that  trembled  into  quiet  under  his  influ- 
ence, as  the  needle  finds  the  star. 

Nothing  of  this  was  said  between  them,  for  they  talked 
almost  wholly  of  Bertha.  Both  of  them  looked  on  her  as 
the  high  light  in  their  common  picture,  and  on  themselves 
but  as  shadows  in  the  background ;  but  within  the  shadow 
each  felt  watched  over  and  understood  by  the  other.  Dur- 
ing this  interview,  in  fact,  Agnes  came  to  a  sudden  realiza- 
tion that  he  was  her  truest  friend — one  who  gave  her  ample 
(freedom,  yet  held  her  tenderly.  Never  was  there  a  pair 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

more  capable  of  such  a  frankly  human  attachment,  and  her 
hungry  soul  fed  upon  it  in  a  way  astonishing  to  herself. 
She  found  she  was  making  him  her  confidant,  not  baldly, 
but  genuinely;  and  he  received  her  confidence  and  said  in 
reply  just  what  she  would  have  had  him  say.  Oh,  the  peace 
of  this  comprehension!  the  unspeakable  solace  of  inward 
companionship  after  her  hard  loneliness !  He  knew  just 
how  to  deal  with  her  because  her  distress  sunk  into  him  al- 
most as  if  it  were  an  experience  of  his  own.  They  were  alike 
as  twins.  To  each,  action — whether  in  deeds  or  words — was 
merely  the  residuum,  the  sediment,  as  it  were,  of  spiritual 
activity.  The  inner  stage  was  to  them  always  the  stage; 
the  outer  was  a  mere  puppet-show,  at  best  but  the  repre- 
sentation of  what  had  been  vitally  presented  within.  So 
it  was  not  necessary  to  wait  for  acts;  they  were  admitted 
into  the  power-house  of  character,  and  could  link  or  dis- 
connect the  levers  that  made  wheels  move  or  stand  still. 

After  a  month's  absence  Agnes  returned  to  Chicago,  her 
mind  steadied  to  a  conclusion  in  regard  to  her  own  life, 
and  eager  to  be  again  with  Bertha.  She  wrote  ahead  ask- 
ing if  she  might  spend  the  first  night  with  her,  and  receiv- 
ing happy  response  went  over  from  her  aunt's  immediately 
after  dinner,  and  found  Bertha  alone. 
,  A  rose-shaded  lamp  lighted  softly  the  fragrant  room. 
It  had  seemed  oppressive  outside,  but  here  the  warmth 
was  freshened  by  a  breeze  that  wafted  the  curtains  to  and 
fro  gently.  Bertha  was  seated  in  the  love-colored  shadow 
arrayed  in  clinging  white,  her  hands  folded.  She  rose  to 
greet  Agnes,  and  there  was  a  slow  grace  about  her  move- 
ments, an  air  of  joyous  tranquillity  that  made  a  profound 
impression. 

•     "What  an  amazing  woman!"  thought  the  girl  for  the 
hundredth  time.    "In  her  circumstances,  to  have  this  at- 


178  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

mosphere  belong  to  her!"  She  felt  humbled,  yet  enli- 
vened. Bertha's  buoyancy  was  nothing  short  of  a  miracle, 
land  her  equable  disposition,  that  balanced  whatever  came, 
was  a  never-ending  marvel;  but  perhaps  the  chief  delight 
in  her  presence  was  that  in  some  subtle  way  peculiar  to 
sympathy  she  made  others  partake  of  the  goods  her  nature 
provided. 

They  embraced,  and  sat  down  close  together.  "It  seems 
ages  since  I  saw  you  last,"  said  Bertha  fondly.  Then  she 
smiled — mysteriously,  the  girl  thought — and  "Ages,"  she 
repeated,  with  significant  emphasis. 

"A  whole  long  month,"  repeated  Agnes  with  a  sigh. 

"A  month?  A  hundred  months!  One  hour  at  times 
sums  up  'most  glorious  length  of  days/  Indeed,  dear 
Agnes,  you  have  never  seen  me — me  as  I  am  now — never !" 
She  leaned  back,  and  her  eyes  had  an  excited  triumph  in 
their  depths. 

"True,"  said  Agnes,  "you  have  infinite  variety.  But 
what  has  come  to  you  since  we  last  met  ?  Is  it  because  you 
were  so  busy  living  that  you  did  not  write  to  me  ?"  There 
was  reproach  in  her  voice,  but  Bertha  put  it  aside  with  a 
gesture.  She  was  a  poor  correspondent,  since  the  present 
ever  preoccupied  her,  and  they  both  knew  it. 

"So  busy  living,  yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  her 
exultation  were  hushed  by  the  wonder  of  it.  She  was 
silent  a  few  moments;  then  she  continued  in  a  voice  filled 
with  emotion,  "Everything  has  come  to  me  in  this  month, 
Agnes.  The  universe  has  become  mine.  The  wild  cry  of 
my  life  has  been  answered;  joy  has  come  to  me  at  last;  I 
love  and  am  beloved." 

Agnes  looked  at  her  as  if  she  saw  Venus  just  rising  from 
the  waves. 

"I  told  you  how  it  would  be,"  remarked  Bertha  pres- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  179 

i-       . 

ently.  "His  soul  and  mine  are  one.  God  created  them 
at  a  single  stroke,  and  then  divided  them  that  they  might 
have  the  rapture  of  finding  each  other.  God  himself  can 
have  no  feeling  beyond  love.  It  fills  life  to  the  brim,  and  is 
the  only  nectar  suitable  for  the  jeweled  cup.  Life  has  be- 
come transcendently  beautiful  to  me;  I  always  saw  its  pos- 
sibilities, now  I  feel  it  actually  in  every  fibre  of  my  being. 
Ah,  my  impoverished  child,  when  will  love  come  to  you 
that  you  may  understand?" 

She  touched  the  girl's  pale  cheek  with  her  large,  softly 
tinted  hand.  Agnes  was  kneeling  beside  her;  all  thought 
of  self  lost;  she  was  effaced  in  her  friend.  Bertha  looked 
on  her  somewhat  as  she  would  on  the  baby  she  had  lost. 
Such  maturity  of  happiness  as  her  own  was  beyond  the 
comprehension  of  either,  but  she  poured  herself  out  never- 
theless. Sheer  ecstasy  overflowed. 

"When  will  you  marry?"  asked  Agnes,  still  in  her  wor- 
shipful attitude.  This  triumphant  love,  sure  in  its  perfect 
joy,  seemed  to  her  the  apotheosis  of  romance. 

"When?  Why,  we  are  already  married."  Agnes  started 
back  in  amazement,  but  Bertha  held  her  by  the  shoulder. 
"Isn't  marriage  a  sacrament  of  the  heart,  of  the  mind?" 
said  she,  in  a  tone  of  soft  reproach.  "Surely  no  magic 
lies  in  the  mumble  of  a  priest,  or  in  the  dry-as-dust  words 
of  a  lawyer.  Love  is  the  sacred  rite;  it  is  love  that  unites 
and  makes  one,  and  those  whom  love  has  joined  together 
let  no  man  put  asunder." 

Agnes  rose.  She  comprehended  nothing,  and  appre- 
hended little,  but  she  felt  like  getting  to  her  feet.  Bertha 
was  looking  beyond  her  out  of  the  window,  immersed  in 
her  love-dream.  A  sudden  bitterness  came  into  the  girl's 
mind;  her  dearest  friend  was  so  absorbed  in  joy  that  she 
had  no  thought  for  the  soul  beside  her.  Agnes  had  suf- 


180  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

fered  cruelly  and  felt  a  new  torture  now  in  the  dread  lest 
Bertha  was  slipping  from  her.  That  must  not  be.  She 
put  her  arm  around  the  beautiful  neck,  and  turned  the 
face  back  against  her  shoulder. 

"Darling,"  she  said  with  exquisite  tenderness,  "you  know 
how  deeply  I  hope  you  will  be  happy.  May  all  the  sorrows 
of  your  life  be  made  good.  Since  you  find  happiness  in 
this  love,  I  rejoice  in  it  for  you.  If  you  have  found  your 
ideal  of  a  good  man  may  you  be  united  at  once,  and  for- 
ever." 

Bertha  put  up  her  lips,  looking  into  the  girl's  sweet  face 
with  sparkling  eyes.  They  kissed,  and  the  woman  said, 
"Bless  you,  dear;  it  was  all  I  needed  to  complete  my  joy." 
She  pulled  her  friend  down  on  her  lap,  hesitated  a  moment 
while  she  questioned  Agnes's  devoted  eyes  with  her  own, 
then,  bending  forward,  she  whispered  a  few  words  in  her 
ear. 

Agnes  sprung  to  her  feet,  and  put  a  distance  between 
them,  her  face  suddenly  blanched. 

"Can  you  mean  what  you  say?"  she  asked  in  the  lowest 
audible  tone. 

"Yes,"  replied  Bertha. 

Agnes  turned  to  the  window  and  looked  forth  with  sight- 
less eyes.  A  wind  had  risen  and  tossed  the  dusty  branches ; 
it  touched  her  hot  forehead  and  cheeks  like  a  desert  wind. 
She  blushed  for  her  friend,  blushed  to  the  soul. 

Bertha  came  to  her  side.  "Why  do  you  turn  from  me, 
child?"  she  said  in  her  most  winning  voice.  "Are  you, 
even  you,  whom  I  thought  freed,  still  in  shackles?  He 
will  get  a  divorce  soon — she  is  insane ;  he  has  not  seen  her 
for  ten  years."  Agnes  caught  her  breath  hard.  This  com- 
plication was  hideous  news.  Bertha  went  on  with  rising 
excitement:  "Do  you  suppose  such  a  mere  wraith  of  wife- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  181 

Hood  can  stand  in  the  way  of  love,  the  mightiest  passion, 
the  torrent  of  two  lives  first  finding  its  proper  channel? 
You  might  as  well  ask  a  rotten  skiff  to  withstand  a  tropic 
storm;  you  might  as  soon  expect  the  hand  of  a  paralytic 
to  keep  back  a  triumphant  army,  or  an  infant's  cry  to  stop 
a  conflagration,  as  to  look  for  the  mere  notion  of  law,  the 
empty  shell  of  it,  to  prevent  love  and  its  expression.  No, 
Agnes,  such  demands  stultify  the  soul — they  stunt  life. 
Shelley  lived  ahead  of  his  time;  so  will  I.  George  Eliot 
dares  to  follow  her  heart;  am  I  less  hrave?  But  it  re- 
quires no  courage — it  is  simply  life.  What  do  I  care  for 
the  world?  I  know  what  it  has  to  offer,  and  what  it  can- 
not give.  I  have  won  its  approval  and  found  it  cheap. 
My  heart  has  starved  at  that  table  for  years.  Now  it  is 
bounteously  fed,  and  with  ambrosia!" 

Agnes  had  no  words.  She  was  unmoored  and  drifting 
out  on  a  tumultuous  and  shoreless  sea,  behind  the  horizon 
of  which  the  star  of  duty  had  sunk. 

Bertha  moved  and  leaned  against  the  casement,  her  face 
upturned,  and  in  her  carriage,  her  manner,  was  the  change 
which  comes  to  a  woman  first  in  the  joyous  consciousness 
of  being  supremely  loved.  There  was  not  a  suggestion  of 
shame  about  her;  it  shamed  Agnes  to  think  of  shame  in 
connection  with  her. 

"Look  at  the  myriad  stars,"  resumed  Bertha  presently, 
and  the  cadence  of  her  voice  was  delicious;  "not  one  of 
them  but  sings,  still  choiring  to  the  choiring  cherubim,  and 
my  heart  outsings  them  all :  isn't  joy  good  ?  Look  at  the 
earth,  full  of  fruit  and  beauty :  it  lives  out  its  life,  and  we 
rejoice  in  its  bounty.  Look  at  the  teeming  town :  is  man, 
who  is  the  highest  reach  of  nature,  alone  to  be  unhappy, 
maiming  himself  and  calling  it  duty?  It  is  his  own  fault 
if  he  does.  He  should  sum  up  in  himself  all  the  gladness 


182  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

of  the  joy  primeval,  of  angels  and  of  men."  She  straight- 
ened herself,  feeling  the  dignity  of  being  the  splendid  em- 
bodiment of  this  sum.  "Oh,  Agnes,  dear,  believe  me," 
and  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  girl's,  "God  does  not  wish 
us  to  be  miserable.  God  does  not  condemn  us,  out  of 
all  creation,  to  self-denial;  self -consummation  is  the  end. 
Sorrow  is  of  earth,  earthy;  we  should  ally  ourselves  with 
joy,  which  is  heavenly." 

"Yes,"  murmured  Agnes,  with  the  increasing  roar  of 
those  inner  waves  on  her  ear,  "yes,  if  it  be  heavenly." 

"And  what  is  more  divine  than  love?"  cried  Bertha, 
catching  up  the  words  instantly.  "God  is  love;  love  is 
God :  I  obey  nothing  less !" 

She  looked  regal  as  she  took  thus  her  stand  on  the 
primitive  rights  of  the  human  heart  and  deified  them. 
She  accepted  nothing  of  what  the  race  has  learned  since 
those  rights  were  the  highest.  Social  strictures  were  to  her 
but  flimsy  ties  which  when  love  flared  up  were  consumed  in 
an  instant.  Not  what  the  world  thinks,  nor  what,  as  in 
the  social  game  of  consequences,  he  or  she  might  say,  waa 
the  question;  but  whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind.  Only 
it  was  no  question,  so  simultaneous  was  the  answer :  It  is 
nobler  to  love  than  to  do  anything  else;  it  is  nobler  to  be 
loved  than  to  be  anything  else ;  it  is  best  to  live  most  fully. 
She  perceived  with  a  clearness  few  attain  that  to  love  is 
to  lay  hold  of  the  divine  vesture ;  the  whole,  without  which 
the  parts  are  but  "fallings  from  us,  vanishings."  Rarely  is 
love  seized  so  as  to  lift  man  out  of  the  human  into  the 
divine;  rather,  it  is  caught  but  for  a  moment,  then  loos- 
ened, so  that  love  as  it  soars  leaves  the  man  behind,  prone, 
perhaps,  in  that  wake  of  vanished  glory;  yet  for  the  mo- 
ment he  is  in  touch  with  the  motive-power  of  the  universe, 
and  feels  the  sublimity  of  the  contact. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  183 

This  was  Bertha's  state  at  this  time.  She  trusted  her 
lover  as  she  trusted  love,  with  whole-souled  acceptance. 

"Agnes,"  she  cried  to  the  girl,  who  was  a  silent  con- 
fidante— silent  in  every  sense,  for  her  thoughts  were  in- 
articulate— "you  have  no  idea  of  what  wealth  I  have  found ! 
A  man  of  noble  attributes,  of  lofty  perceptions  and  tender 
instincts;  a  man  who  carries  my  ideal  with  him  beyond 
my  former  hopes ;  one  who  gives  me  all  I  ask,  and  lavishes 
upon  me  an  abundance  I  knew  not  how  to  ask.  Life's 
sorrows  disappear  before  such  joy;  they  vanish  as  the  mists 
of  night  before  the  ardent  sun;  they  are  not." 

"Not  even  your  grief  for  Lois?"  asked  her  companion, 
standing,  a  slender  grey  figure,  before  the  glowing  woman. 
She  could  not  reconcile  herself  to  Bertha's  letting  go  to 
such  an  incredible  degree  of  what  was  not  present.  Her 
friend  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

"Do  you  think  I  have  forgotten  my  little  daughter?  Far 
from  it,  Agnes.  But  the  grief  for  her  loss  has  fallen  away 
beneath  love's  magic  touch.  Often  I  feel  her  near  me,  a 
benediction.  I  know  now  God  is,  because  love  is,  and  it 
needs  nothing  less  than  Godhead  to  hold  it;  so  my  little 
one  lives  somewhere  still.  Love  assures  me  of  this." 

Some  days  later  Agnes  brought  herself  to  the  point  of 
making  an  inquiry  to  which  she  could  find  no  adequate 
answer  within. 

"Why  not  have  waited,  since  it  was  a  mere  question  of 
time?"  she  urged,  but  in  a  voice  hardly  above  a  whisper. 
The  words,  with  their  implications,  were  almost  unspeak- 
able, "Why  haste  in  a  way  that  destroys  what  is 
sacred  ?" 

"How  little  you  know,  nun's  soul  that  you  are!"  ex- 
claimed Bertha,  with  a  sigh  and  a  smile.  She  thought  a 
few  moments,  concentrating  tensely;  then  she  said: 


184.  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"There's  this:  You  can  see  that  time  does  not  exist  in 
view  of  eternal  verities ;  love  and  duty  are  eternal  verities ; 
therefore  if  it  be  right  for  us  to  love  ever,  it  is  right  now, 
and  what  is  not  a  duty  forever  is  not  a  duty  now;  don't 
you  see?" 

The  girl  made  no  attempt  to  refute  this  self-deception. 
She  did  not  see ;  all  was  dark.  She  had  relied  on  Bertha  so 
absolutely,  and  had  so  absorbing  a  love  for  her,  that  to  find 
herself  thus  cut  adrift  (for  she  could  not  follow)  from 
every  law  and  every  person  threw  her  into  chaos.  She  could 
hear  no  majestic  word  that  divided  the  heavens  from  the 
earth;  there  was  no  firmament  above,  and  nothing  but 
unstable  water  below,  a  tossing  tumult  in  which  she  could 
barely  keep  her  face  unswamped.  The  thought  of  General 
Grey's  words  when  leaving  her  and  Bertha  together  re- 
curred often.  It  was  indeed  a  perilous  sea  on  which  they 
had  embarked,  a  shoreless  waste,  without  a  single  raft  of 
safety. 

But  there  was  no  comfort  now  in  the  thought  of  General 
Grey;  it  was  a  stinging  lash  to  her.  What  would 
he  say,  what  could  he  say,  but  words  that  would  be 
like  poniards?  Wearied  with  long  strife,  she  came  even  to 
ask  herself,  why  should  Bertha  have  given  her  this  cruel 
burden  to  carry  ?  Why  not  have  kept  her  secret,  which  was 
a  joy  to  her,  an  anguish  to  her  friend?  But  no  sooner 
was  the  protest  formulated  than  pushed  away.  Confidence 
was  priceless  at  any  cost;  love  must  suffice  to  carry  what- 
ever came.  It  must  hold  fast  through  every  divergence, 
for,  if  friendship  were  true,  harmony  in  the  end  would 
prevail.  It  was  a  coward's  part  to  wish  Bertha  less  honest 
for  the  mere  sake  of  ease.  But  what  ought  Agnes  to  do? 
How  was  she  to  face  the  world — how  herself?  She  could 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  185 

not  drug  her  soul  to  sleep  with  lies ;  what  action  would  con- 
tent the  ogre  ? 

Meantime  Ethan  Carruthers,  having  gone  away  while 
Agnes  was  absent,  did  not  return.  He  wrote  Bertha  con- 
stantly, and  she  him,  letters  of  high  literary  and  human 
value,  for  neither  of  the  two  was  a  common  nature.  The 
poetic  spirit  played  through  their  intercourse  and  elevated 
it,  despite  the  moral  drag;  and  Bertha,  at  least,  stood 
where  sense-life  fines  off  into  something  truer  and  more 
vast. 

The  summer  waned  and  vanished,  and  autumn  reigned. 

It  was  in  September  that  a  few  people  were  bidden  to  a 
rather  remarkable  ceremony  in  Bertha's  sitting-room  at  the 
hotel.  Amanda  Bow,  a  modern  woman  of  Samaria,  was 
at  last  to  be  properly  married.  She  had  been  lifted  to 
the  level  of  such  a  possibility  and  maintained  there,  in 
spite  of  many  tendencies  to  slip,  by  her  daughter's  master- 
ful and  steady  influence.  Now  the  mother  felt  herself 
made  an  honest  woman  by  the  legal  pact. 

Bertha  and  Agnes  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  through 
the  brief  rite  as  they  had  through  all  that  led  up  to  it.  The 
man  was  a  plain  farmer  from  the  country  who  knew  pre- 
cisely whom  he  was  marrying  and  felt  entire  confidence  in 
the  result.  So  did  Bertha.  "The  longer  she  lives,  the 
further  she  will  get  from  the  slough  of  her  youth,"  was 
the  prediction  made  to  Agnes.  "She  has  shed  all  that  as 
a  snake  its  first  skin." 

"It  is  a  magnificent  tribute  to  you,  dear,  "said  Agnes, 
rejoicing  in  the  opportunity  for  full-voiced  praise.  "What 
magic  is  there  comparable  to  the  miracle  of  regeneration  ? 
It  was  you  that  focused  the  power  here." 

"I  did  have  something  to  do  with  it,"  answered  Bertha 
easily;  "so  anybody  might  who  just  took  hold  and  didn't 


186  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

lose  grasp  till  the  thing  was  done.  Power  lies  all  about  us, 
and  inside,  if  we'll  use  it  to  an  end." 

Aa  soon  as  the  pair  were  pronounced  man  and  wife, 
Bertha  stepped  forward  and  embraced  her  mother  heartily, 
grasping  Mr.  Edwards's  hand  at  the  same  time,  while  tears 
mingled  with  smiles  on  the  wife's  acquainted  face.  Agnes 
followed  with  her  congratulations,  and  then  Pa  and  Ma. 

"God  bless  you,  Mandy,"  said  Pa  with  a  strong  ring  in 
his  tone.  "I  never  was  gladder  of  anything  in  my  life. 
To  see  you  stand  here  the  wife  of  an  honest  man  does  my 
heart  good.  Happy  days  to  you !" 

"Bertha  was  right,"  asserted  Ma  proudly,  shaking  hands 
long  with  the  woman  she  had  long  despised.  "I'm  mighty 
glad  of  it.  You  and  Mr.  Edwards'll  have  a  good  time  to- 
gether down  in  the  country,  and  nobody  wishes  you  well 
more'n  I  do." 

When  Mrs.  Endicott  heard  of  the  marriage,  she  drew  a 
great  breath  of  relief,  exclaiming: 

"  Thank  heaven !  I  hope  now  she  has  gone  out  of  sight 
and  will  be  allowed  to  stay  out  of  mind.  There  was  always 
something  shaky  about  that  mother,  and  since  I  had  much 
to  do  with  introducing  Bertha  into  society,  I  feel  a  re- 
sponsibility that  makes  me  very  uncomfortable  when  things 
look  queer." 

Agnes  cowered  as  she  listened,  but  Bertha's  serene  and 
calm  assurance  rose  before  her  shaming  fear. 

"What  becomes  of  the  girls?"  pursued  Mrs.  Endicott. 
"I  hope  they  vanish  likewise?" 

"Nellie,  the  younger,  goes  with  her  mother,"  replied 
Agnes  patiently.  "Mary  stays  here  with  Pa  and  Ma.  They 
will  leave  the  hotel,  and  take  Mrs.  Hoarding's — that  is, 
Mrs,  Edwards's — room.  They  will  be  more  comfortable  in 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

simple  surroundings,  Bertha  thinks,  and  they  can  look 
after  Mary  better." 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  a  good  idea,"  assented  Mrs.  Endi- 
cott,  rocking  to  and  fro.  "But  what  is  Bertha  going  to 
do  with  herself?  That's  the  main  question.  It  isn't  to 
be  expected  she  will  live  along  quietly  like  this;  she  is 
bound  to  marry  again.  Of  course  she'll  strike  for  some 
f  jie  high,  she's  so  ambitious.  Who  do  you  think  the  happy 
man  will  be?"  She  turned  suddenly  to  catch  what  might 
be  surprised  on  her  niece's  face. 

"I  don't  question  myself  about  the  matter,"  was  the  dig- 
nified reply. 

"You  wouldn't  need  to;  she'd  tell  you  the  minute  she 
knew  herself,"  retorted  Mrs.  Endicott,  with  a  laugh.  "But 
keep  her  secret,  child.  When  she  has  one  of  any  real  con- 
sequence she  won't  be  able  to  keep  it  long  from  the  world ; 
she  delights  too  much  in  playing  to  the  galleries.  I  do 
hope  she  won't  throw  herself  away  on  some  good-f  or-naught, 
even  if  he  be  high  in  station ;  but  it's  often  the  way  with 
those  superb  women;  they  don't  seem  to  have  any  sense." 

It  was  soon  after  this  that  Bertha  greeted  Agnes  with  the 
jubilant  tidings  that  Ethan  was  coming  on  Tuesday. 
"Think  of  it,  Agnes!  only  four  days!"  She  held  the  girl 
by  her  slim  shoulders  and  gave  them  a  little  shake  to  rouse 
her  to  the  great  news. 

But  Agnes  would  not  rouse ;  could  not  raise  her  eyes  in- 
deed; instead  she  hid  them  on  Bertha's  shoulder  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  drew  away  in  silence.  She  busied  herself 
with  putting  aside  her  hat  and  wrap,  Bertha  running  over 
with  joy  meanwhile. 

The  words  she  spoke  made  the  girl  shrink  with  an  actual 
physical  repulsion.  In  her  own  soul  at  least  there  was  an 
impassable  distinction  between  right  and  wrong.  As  a 


188  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

speck  of  dust  on  a  garment  is  unnoticed,  on  the  skin  is 
hardly  felt,  but  in  the  eye  causes  torture,  so  is  it  with  the 
different  grades  of  conscience.  The  dust  was  in  Agnes's 
eye  now  and  tormented  her  to  action.  She  went  to  stand  in 
front  of  Bertha,  an  ancestral,  puritanic  figure;  tall,  slim, 
pallid,  grave. 

"Berth*,"  she  said,  "when  he  comes,  I  shall  keep  away." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  the  woman,  startled  as  at 
a  pistol-shot.  She  sat  erect  and  looked  at  the  girl  with 
searching  eyes. 

"I  must,"  said  Agnes,  on  the  rack. 

"Why?  Give  me  your  reasons,"  demanded  Bertha  more 
sternly.  "You  can't  mean Why,  child,  are  you  jeal- 
ous?" The  tension  gave  way  and  she  sunk  back  as  if  she 
had  probed  the  mystery  and  found  the  pistol-shot  a  harm- 
less firecracker.  Agnes  shook  her  head  sadly  and  sat  down, 
for  her  knees  were  weak.  If  it  were  merely  jealousy !  But 
Bertha  persisted  in  her  interpretation.  She  went  and 
perched  herself  on  the  arm  of  Agnes's  chair,  and  put  a  firm 
arm  around  her.  She  caressed  her  fondly,  explaining  that 
no  one  could  fake  her  place,  that  Agnes  would  always 
be  her  dearest  friend,  and  so  on.  The  girl  doubted  none  of 
it;  she  turned  her  weary  head  to  her  friend's  breast  as  a 
child  to  its  mother,  and  let  the  tears  flow  unrestrained. 
It  was  very  bitter.  She  loved  Bertha  more  deeply  than 
ever;  she  did  not  judge  her  in  the  least.  There  was  no 
standard  outside  her  own  mind,  and  what  was  simply  her 
opinion  she  had  no  wish  to  impose  on  others.  To  them 
right  might  be  different;  for  her  there  was  but  one  right, 
and  it  was  impossible  not  to  follow  it.  She  accepted  the 
inevitable  of  duty  as  she  did  of  death.  Oh,  to  be  free  from 
this  long  ache  of  responsibility! 
v  Her  heart  was  full  of  weeping,  but  the  overflow  lasted 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  189 

only  a  short  time;  despair  sunk  deeper,  and  the  tears  found 
their  level  there.  She  lifted  her  head,  drying  her  eyes.  • 

"I  understand,"  she  said.  "I  am  not  in  the  least  jeal- 
ous. Far  from  grudging  you  an  instant's  joy,  darling, 
gladly  would  I  increase  it." 

"That's  my  dear,"  returned  Bertha  in  a  tone  of  much 
satisfaction.  She  gave  her  a  parting  pat,  and  rose  to  lift 
some  flowers  from  the  table  and  inhale  their  fragrance  in 
long,  voluptuous  breaths.  "You  can  increase  it  by  being 
your  most  cordial  self  to  Mr.  Carruthers;  you  must  greet 
him  as  the  man  who  makes  your  friend  unspeakably 
happy." 

"I  cannot  meet  you  and  him  together,"  repeated  Agnes 
in  a  dull  tone. 

"Again?"  exclaimed  Bertha,  wheeling  round  in  amaze- 
ment. "I  thought  we  had  exorcised  that  fiend;  but  it  is 
there  still."  She  drew  up  a  chair  in  front  of  her  friend 
and  possessed  herself  of  Agnes's  hands,  which  trembled 
visibly.  "Now,  speak  out  fearlessly;  I  want  to  get  to  the 
root  of  this." 

Thus  adjured,  Agnes  spoke.  She  could  not  approve 
Bertha's  action ;  she  knew  nothing  except  her  own  actions, 
and  conscience  said  "Thou  shalt  not"  to  her.  It  forbade 
her  to  see  those  two  together,  the  thought  revolted  her 
soul — 

Bertha  dropped  Agnes's  hands  as  though  they  scorched 
and  sprung  to  her  feet. 

"Revolted !"  she  echoed  as  she  swept  away.  She  had  not 
realized  until  now  how  deeply  she  depended  upon  Agnes's 
approval.  To  have  it  thus  snatched  from  her  made  her  feel 
cast  out,  naked,  shivering.  Yet  indignantly  did  she  re- 
pudiate the  calumny  breathed  against  her  love.  That 
Agnes,  who  knew  her  to  the  soul,  should  feel  abhorrence! 


190  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

But  it  was  because  the  conventional  soul  was  still  in  the 
drag-net  of  old  prejudices;  she  could  not  rid  herself  of 
those  superstitions — that  was  the  trouble. 

She  turned  as  Agnes  came  toward  her,  and  the  two  stood 
facing  each  other;  both  grave,  aware  of  the  solemnity  of 
the  moment;  it  was  a  crucial  test  to  friendship.  Agnes 
spoke. 

"You  have  often  told  me  that  we  met  on  the  basis  of 
our  ideals,  Bertha.  It  is  true.  You  have  emancipated  and 
enlightened  me;  you  have  given  me  life.  Now,  in  this 
matter,  we  cannot  agree ;  our  ideals  differ.  I  cannot  bring 
you  to  my  point  of  view,  nor  you  me  to  yours.  Unless  you 
leave  me  free  to  do  what  I  see  to  be  my  duty,  we  shall  lose 
each  other.  If  I  go  to  hell  for  it,  I  must  do  it.  Another 
might  find  another  right ;  to  me  this  is  the  sole  right.  You 
see.  I  cannot  do  otherwise."  Her  eyes  strained  to 
Bertha's,  but  the  light  in  them,  though  drear,  was  stead- 
fast 

Bertha  was  silent;  silenced,  indeed,  to  the  soul.  This 
slight,  earnest  girl,  whom  she  had  been  wont  to  mold  as 
Endymion  the  clay,  now  declared  a  life  of  her  own,  seeking 
but  one  thing,  duty.  To  the  glowing  woman  it  was  the 
revelation  of  an  ideal  undreamed  of  before. 

She  took  the  girl's  delicate  hand  and  raised  it  to  her 
lips.  "I  see,"  she  said  acquiescently;  "be  free." 

Not  many  days  later  Bertha  called  at  Mrs.  Endicott's. 
Aunt  and  niece  were  together  when  Bertha  entered  the  up- 
stairs sitting-room,  filling  it  with  the  joyous  bloom  of  hap- 
piness. Never  had  she  looked  so  superbly  handsome. 
Agnes  was  pale  and  miserable,  but  she  could  hide  facts 
past  any  one's  finding  out,  and  Mrs.  Endicott  was  entirely 
unaware  of  Carruthers's  arrival  in  town. 


A  VICTORIOUS  OTE  191 

While  Agnes  was  getting  a  faint  pink  in  Her  cheeks  from 
the  delight  in  her  friend's  presence,  Bertha  announced : 
\  "I  have  come  to  tell  you  something,  Mrs.  Endicott, 
which  I  want  you  to  know  first  of  all,  except  my  little  con- 
fidante here."  She  glanced  affectionately  at  Agnes,  who  be- 
gan to  pale  and  shrink.  "You  have  always  taken  an  in- 
terest in  my  affairs,  and  been  kind  to  me." 

"All  of  which  means,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Endicott, 
smiling  graciously,  "that  you  are  engaged  to  be  married. 
I  was  telling  Agnes  the  other  day  it  was  sure  to  come. 
Who  is  the  favored  mortal?" 

"Ethan  Carruthers.    It  is  thanks  to  you  that  we  met." 

"Yes,  yes,  so  it  is!  Well,  I  congratulate  you  heartily, 
dear  Bertha.  That's  a  match  worthy  of  you;  how  de- 
lightful to  be  in  Washington !  You  will  be  married  soon, 
I  suppose?" 

"There  comes  in  the  chief  spice  of  my  news,"  said 
Bertha  lightly.  "We  are  already  married;  it  took  place 
privately  in  the  summer." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Endicott,  too  sur- 
prised even  for  the  moment  to  be  annoyed.  "When? 
Where  ?  Why  was  it  so  secret  ?" 

"There  were  reasons  which  have  now  happily  passed 
away,"  said  Bertha,  sailing  with  easy  dignity  over  these 
shoals.  "One  of  them  was  the  nearness  of  my  divorce. 
You  know  such  things  have  much  effect  in  politics.  I  shall 
have  to  learn  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  them  now,"  she  added, 
with  a  happy  laugh.  "To-morrow  we  start  for  Washing- 
ton; there's  to  be  no  more  delay.  I've  a  host  of  things  to 
do,  but  I  had  to  take  time  to  tell  you  my  great  surprise. 
I  haven't  even  let  the  old  folks  know  yet.  Don't  you  want 
to  go  with  me  to  them,  Agnes  ?  I'm  on  my  way  there  now." 

"You  bore  that  strain  beautifully,"  she  added  as  they 


192  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

left  the  house  together.  "Aren't  you  going  to  reconsider, 
Agnes,  and  come  to  see  me  before  I  go  away  ?"  She  spoke 
in  the  most  alluring  tone,  which  would  have  melted  any- 
thing less  insoluble  than  duty  in  this  girl  who  loved  her  so 
dearly,  but  she  only  shook  her  head. 

"Has  he — has  he "  she  stammered  in  a  whisper. 

"Got  the  divorce?  Yes;  last  week.  He  delayed  for 
that ;  he  is  an  honorable  man,  Agnes." 

"And  your  marriage?"  probed  the  girl,  still  speaking 
below  her  breath. 

"Oh,  don't  trouble  about  that,"  replied  Bertha,  a  trifle 
impatiently.  "He  has  arranged  for  it  on  the  way  with  a 
justice  of  the  peace — some  place  where  he  is  not  known." 
She  walked  along  with  head  high  and  a  touch  of  indigna- 
tion in  her  manner.  Deceit  in  any  shape  was  against 
nature  to  her,  and  she  would  have  liked  an  open  declara- 
tion of  everything ;  so  to  be  brought  to  book  on  a  subterfuge 
irritated  her.  She  turned  without  delay  to  a  more  pleas- 
ing phase  of  the  subject. 

"The  life  in  Washington  attracts  me  profoundly,"  she 
said  in  a  tone  of  keen  interest.  "To  be  at  the  fountain 
head  of  affairs  and  learn  how  the  nation  is  managed;  to 
meet  important  men  and  women  who  make  history;  to 
affect  people  whose  support  is  needed  for  great  causes — 
it  is  a  wonderful  opening,  Agnes.  I  feel  as  if  the  world, 
and  all  that  in  it  is,  were  being  poured  into  my  lap." 

Her  eyes  were  bright  with  anticipation  and  power,  but 
they  dulled  as  she  glanced  at  her  somber  friend.  Agnes 
tried  in  vain  to  respond.  All  she  could  say  honestly  was : 

"I  hope  every  aspiration  you  have  may  be  fulfilled, 
'dear.  No  one  will  rejoice  more  than  I  if  you  are  happy 
and  successful." 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  193 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be?"  asked  the  fearless  woman. 
Nevertheless  Agnes's  spirit  chilled  her. 

Pa  shook  his  head  somewhat  anxiously  when  told  of  the 
new  turn  in  Bertha's  affairs,  but  said  little;  there  was  no 
use,  the  deed  was  done.  Ma,  however,  was  full  of  queries 
and  comments  that  gained  little  response. 

"Later  on,  when  we  are  settled,  I'll  send  for  you,"  went 
on  Bertha  confidently.  "Meanwhile  you  and  Mary  are 
safe  and  comfortable  here,  aren't  you  ?  I  know  Agnes  will 
keep  an  eye  on  you.  Here's  all  the  money  I  have ;  I'll  send 
you  more  later  when  things  are  not  so  upheaved.  It's  all 
so  sudden !"  she  added  with  an  excited  laugh. 

"We'll  manage,  Bertie;  we'll  manage,"  said  Pa  sooth- 
ingly. "Don't  you  worry  about  us.  But  my,  what  a  change 
for  my  little  gell  1"  He  stood  holding  her  shoulders  a  mo- 
ment, looking  into  her  deepened,  gold-flecked  eyes.  "Be 
careful,  child,"  he  said  then  gravely.  "Look  well  where 
you  walk.  Your  swans  are  very  like  to  be  geese,  you  know ; 
don't  let  them  entice  you  too  far  out  into  the  water.  Now, 
what  can  we  do  for  you  ?" 

"Come  over  and  help  me  pack,  you  and  Ma,  won't  you?" 
she  answered,  prompt  always  to  accept  aid.  "I've  such  a 
lot  to  do.  And  I'd  like  you  to  see  Mr.  Carruthers  again — 
my  dear  husband."  She  dwelt  on  the  words  lingeringly. 

"We'll  come  right  over,"  said  Pa  briskly.  "You  run 
along;  we'll  be  there  almost  as  soon  as  you  are." 

Mrs.  Endicott  was  astonished  at  her  niece's  quick  return. 
"I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  again  for  hours,"  she  exclaimed, 
looking  curiously  at  her  niece.  Those  prying  eyes  were 
intimately  associated  with  every  hour  of  this  time  to 
Agnes's  consciousness.  "Are  you  cut  out  over  there  by  this 
sudden  husband,  or  don't  you  like  him?" 

"Well,  naturally  I  couldn't  be  there  so  intimately  now." 


"You  don't  like  him,  that's  plain,  thongh  wild  horses 
couldn't  get  you  to  admit  it,  I  suppose.  You  are  the 
closest  creature!  Think  of  your  knowing  all  along  that 
Bertha  was  married  again,  and  to  Ethan  Camithers !  She 
hit  the  bull's-eye  of  ambition  there!  When  was  the  mar- 
riage, and  why  on  earth  is  there  all  this  secrecy?  It's  a 
very  bad  plan." 

"I  have  no  comment  to  make,  aunt;  it  is  not  my  affair." 

"Well,  I  hope  it  will  turn  out  all  right,"  pursued  Mrs. 
Endicott,  finding  her  niece  hopeless.  She  rocked  to  and 
fro  with  a  calculating  air.  "Bertha  has  made  good  her 
right  to  do  pretty  much  as  she  chooses;  but  there  are  all 
sorts  of  stories  about  Mr.  Carruthers.  They  say  he  doesn't 
mind  sharp  practices,  and  makes  money  faster  than,  he 
ought  to;  but  then  they  throw  mud  so  in  politics  no  one 
can  tell  what  is  true  and  what  is  false.  Besides,  if  a  man 
stands  long  enough  before  the  country,  and  has  the  wit  to 
brazen  things  out,  almost  any  amount  of  mud  will  dry  up 
and  be  blown  away." 

"Is  that  why  you  congratulated  her  on  making  such  a 
match?"  asEed  Agnes  with  some  scorn. 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  one  reason,"  answered  the  aunt  com- 
fortably. "He  has  plenty  of  brains;  and  with  brains  and 
money  and  the  machine  on  his  side,  I  should  think  he 
might  get  almost  any  position  he  wants.  It's  doubtful  if 
he  could  be  President,  for  a  campaign  does  riddle  a  man ; 
but  as  a  dark  horse  he  might  do  even  that — there's  no 
telling." 


CHAPTER  XV< 

DURING  the  height  of  the  season  in  the  first  printer  of 
the  Carruthers's  residence  in  Washington,  General  Grey 
went  to  visit  them.  His-  train  was  belated  by  a  freight 
accident,  and  the  hack  he  took  late  in  the  evening  jolted 
along  nnpaved  and  unlighted  streets,  mere  troughs  of  red 
dust  between  frame  houses  stark  in  ugliness.  The  over- 
grown village,  laid  out  on  a  grand  plan,  was  not  yet  the 
beautiful  capital  visioned  by  I/Enfant.  To  foreign  eyes, 
indeed,  it  seemed  but  "a  howling  wilderness,"  with  vacant 
streets  going  nowhere  in  particular,  and  a  population  chiefly 
of  negroes  and  politicians.  The  parks  produced  only 
weeds ;  wooden  fences  and  patches  of  bare  earth  surrounded 
even  the  White  House,  though  at  the  other  end  of  Penn- 
sylvania Avenue — the  sole  street  lighted — towered  the 
superb  edifice  of  the  Capitol,  just  completed  and  crowned 
by  Crawford's  statue  of  Liberty.  Grey  recalled  with  pride 
that,  though  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  the  government 
ordered  work  on  the  Capitol  suspended,  the  contractors 
were  sufficiently  patriotic  to  continue  it  at  their  own  ex- 
pense and  risk,  so  that  the  sound  of  tools  at  work  on  the 
building  did  not  cease  during  the  whole  war.  He  remem- 
bered also  the  effect  produced  on  a  number  of  prisoners 
brought  to  Washington  in  '64  when  the  South  was  drained 
almost  to  the  lees.  Confronted  here  by  the  great  dome 
being  calmly  finished,  as  if  devastation  were  not  within 
the  scope  of  possibility,  they  said  mournfully,  "If  the 

195 


196  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

North  has  men  and  money  to  use  in  building  domes,  there's 
no  hope  for  us." 

Long  trains  of  army  wagons,  each  dragged  by  eighteen 
mules,  trundled  past  the  traveler  into  town,  making  him 
gasp  with  mingled  dust  and  relief  that  their  burden  of 
martial  stores  was  no  longer  needed.  The  cruel  war  was 
over;  slavery  was  done  away  with;  the  Capitol  belonged 
to  South  as  well  as  North;  but  great  problems  remained 
to  be  settled.  General  Grey  squared  his  shoulders  as  he 
thought  of  the  perplexing  enigmas,  insoluble  by  the  sword 
or  any  other  form  of  force,  to  be  wrought  out  now  by  clear 
vision,  wise  action,  magnanimity,  and  the  will  to  accept 
changed  conditions.  As  the  hack  stopped  at  a  large  resi- 
dence on  one  of  the  best  streets,  he  wondered  if  the  man 
who  lived  here  was  capable  of  helping  to  solve  these  riddles. 
He  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

The  house,  into  which  a  colored  butler  ushered  him  with 
multitudinous  bows,  was  handsome,  and  richly  furnished, 
proclaiming  wealth,  and  pleasure  in  its  display.  There  was 
a  lack  of  restraint,  a  garishness  that  jarred  on  Grey's  quiet 
taste,  but  he  recognized  it  as  in  the  key  of  the  nation's 
mood  at  this  time,  where  money  easily  come  by  went 
lavishly. 

The  butler  told  him  with  many  flourishes  that  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers  had  been  absent  all  day  at  the  Capitol  and  that 
Mrs.  Carruthers  had  waited  long  for  her  expected  guest, 
but  finally  had  been  obliged  to  go  to  the  White  House  and 
begged  him  to  join  her  there. 

As  soon  as  the  requisite  changes  were  made,  therefore, 
he  took  himself  across  Lafayette  Square  to  the  Executive 
Mansion,  where  he  was  cordially  recognized  by  Mrs.  Pat- 
tison,  the  daughter  of  the  President  and  head  of  his  house- 
hold. He  had  liked  her  from  the  first.  In  a  difficult 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  197 

position,  she  brought  together  almost  irreconcilable  ele- 
ments by  her  insight  into  human  nature  and  by  her  native 
kindliness. 

"You  are  always  welcome,  General  Grey,"  she  said 
heartily,  standing  within  the  door  of  the  Blue  Room,  and 
grasping  his  hand  in  the  deft  way  those  that  have  to  shake 
thousands  of  hands  learn  in  self-defense.  "One  of  the 
chief  pleasures  of  this  kind  of  life  is  that  you  have  only 
to  wait  a  little  and  those  you  most  want  to  see  arrive." 

"Because  the  power  of  attraction  is  so  strong,  madam," 
he  replied  sincerely,  in  the  moment  that  was  his  before  he 
yielded  to  the  pressure  of  those  surging  toward  the  first 
lady  of  the  land. 

He  extricated  himself  and  stood  back  against  the  oval 
walls,  glancing  at  the  throng  that  filled  it  and  over- 
flowed into  other  apartments  and  into  the  broad  hall  where 
a  military  band  played.  The  lofty  rooms,  decked  with 
palms  and  flowers,  formed  a  fitting  background  for  the 
gaily  dressed,  hooped  women,  and  many  uniforms  still 
worn  by  the  men.  The  great  disbandment  of  a  million 
combatants  was  not  yet  finished.  Europe  looked  to  see  the 
victorious  republic  swamped  by  its  soldiers,  and  Americans 
themselves  were  not  without  anxiety.  Every  one  watched 
keenly  the  process  of  reabsorption  into  civil  life  of  this  vast 
mass  of  warriors,  but  Grey  had  an  immense  faith  in  the 
principles  of  his  country  and  of  his  countrymen.  Though 
thousands  were  thrown  out  of  employment  by  the  ceasing 
of  the  demands  made  by  war,  he  was  convinced  that  a 
virile  nation  in  need  of  everything  after  years  of  terrific 
strain  would  soon  adjust  itself;  and  that  these  soldiers, 
toughened  by  hardship,  disciplined  under  strict  control, 
would  be  markedly  efficient  in  civil  life. 

Socially  also  the  American  spirit  made  manifest  its 


198  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

adaptability.  As  he  looked  about  he  recalled  with  approval 
the  verdict  of  an  Englishwoman  who  had  recently  traveled 
here:  "The  democracy  behaves  like  a  lady."  It  had  been 
otherwise  at  times.  Once  General  Grant,  during  a  brief 
return  from  the  front,  was  caught  in  the  East  Room  and 
made  to  stand  on  a  chair,  despite  his  tortured  modesty, 
while  the  crowd  cheered.  Again  at  a  public  reception  dur- 
ing the  war,  when  soldiers  just  from  the  field  came  in 
whatever  condition  they  happened  to  be,  Grey  had  seen  the 
white  dresses  of  the  ladies  in  the  receiving  party  blackened 
to  the  knees  by  what  rubbed  off  or  leaped  off  the  boys' 
clothing.  Poor  fellows!  having  to  be  dirty  is  one  of  the 
hardships  of  war — but  what  a  trifle  in  the  balance ! 

Not  catching  sight  of  Bertha,  after  some  minutes'  ob- 
servation, he  let  himself  go  and  drifted  with  the  crowd. 

"There!  see  her?"  exclaimed  a  woman  beside  him,  pull- 
ing her  escort's  arm,  and  looking  eagerly  toward  some  one 
stationed  at  the  head  of  the  East  Room  surrounded  by  a 
group  all  facing  one  way.  Grey  looked,  and  of  course  it 
was  Bertha.  She  stood  tall  and  aglow,  carrying  herself 
superbly,  and  her  beauty,  at  its  prime,  was  set  off  by  sump- 
tuous apparel.  The  succulence  of  health  made  every  mo- 
tion vital,  and  flashed  radiantly  in  her  face,  so  that  he 
recognized  it  was  in  the  very  nature  of  things  that  people 
streamed  toward  her. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  you  can  get  anything  you  want  if  she's  on  your 
side,"  went  on  his  neighbor  confidently.  "I  don't  know 
how  she  manages,  but  it's  a  fact.  Make  somebody  intro- 
duce you,  Sam,  and  then  put  your  best  foot  foremost,  and 
you'll  win — see  if  you  don't" 

"Mrs.  Camithers  is  a  new  power,"  said  a  lady's  reserved 
voice  on  the  other  side,  explaining  the  sights  of  the  capital 
to  her  companion.  "She  has  come  with  this  influx  of 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  199 

> 

newly  rich  folk,  but  I  don't  think  she  belongs  wholly  to 
them.  She  is  the  wife  of  Ethan  Carruthers,  you  know. 
He  is  one  of  the  ablest  men  in  "Washington,  a  master  of 
the  arts  of  the  consummate  politician.  I  don't  know  that  I 
should  trust  him  very  far,"  and  the  voice  fell  low. 

"You  discriminate  with  your  usual  aplomb,"  said  the 
eager-eyed  youth  who  hung  on  the  older  woman's  com- 
ments with  keen  understanding.  "But  what  of  her?  Is 
she  like  her  husband?  She's  mighty  good  to  look  at." 

"She  is/'  averred  his  mentor  with  emphasis.  "She  has 
many  gifts, — beauty  and  magnetism  and  wealth;  and  a 
good  heart,  I'm  told.  If  she  has  a  steady  head  as  well, 
there  is  no  limit  set  for  her.  Do  you  remember  the  tale 
of  what  was  said  to  Mrs.  Polk  ?  It  might  apply  equally  to 
Mrs.  Carruthers." 

"No.  Do  tell  me,"  said  the  young  man,  and  Grey  hung 
by  to  hear. 

"At  one  of  the  President's  receptions  a  solemn-visaged 
•  man  came  up  and  in  a  sudden  silence,  such  as  falls  by 
chance  on  an  assembly,  every  one  heard  him  say,  'Madam, 
I  have  long  wished  to  see  the  lady  upon  whom  the  Bible 
pronounces  woe/  Mrs.  Polk  was  much  puzzled  and  didn't 
know  what  to  reply,  and  again  the  solemn  boom  was  heard, 
'The  Bible  says,  madam,  Woe  unto  you  when  all  men  shall 
speak  well  of  you.'  " 

"  H'm !  He  must  have  needed  a  rest  when  he  got  through 
with  that  compliment,"  laughed  the  young  man.  "I'm 
glad  to  hear  Mrs.  Carruthers  is  well  spoken  of;  it  would 
be  a  pity  else,  with  that  face. — But  one  hears  such  stories." 

Grey  circled  around  the  crowd  and  presently  reached 
Bertha  without  her  noticing  his  advance.  A  young  fellow 
with  an  honest,  enthusiastic  face  was  saying: 


S00  A  VICTORIOUS  LITE 

"You  know  the  fair  wouldn't  go  at  all  if  it  weren't  for 
you,  and  we've  simply  got  to  make  a  lot  of  money." 

"Oh,  I'll  come,  of  course,"  responded  Bertha  heartily, 
with  a  smile  for  his  open  admiration;  "but  you  are  bound 
to  succeed.  Don't  dream  of  anything  else.  It's  a  noble 
cause  and  everybody  is  going  to  lend  a  helping  hand." 

"Especially  if  yours  is  seen  pushing,"  insisted  the  wise 
youth,  giving  way  with  the  gratified  sense  that  heaven 
smiled  upon  his  efforts. 

Before  Grey  could  make  himself  known  a  tall  officer 
close  at  hand  got  in  his  word. 

"Don't  promise  others  too  much  without  lending  me  an 
ear,"  he  urged  genially. 

"Ah,  Colonel  Slocum,  what  opportunity  are  you  going 
to  offer  me?  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  take  advantage  of 
it." 

"How  like  you!"  he  murmured,  looking  down  on  her 
with  kindly  eyes.  "We  pester  you  with  one  demand  after 
another,  and  you  never  fail  to  give  a  gracious  answer. 
How  do  you  manage  it  ?" 

"By  having  friends  who  never  make  ungracious  de- 
mands. You'll  see  the  case  put  to  the  proof  when  you  tell 
me  yours." 

"Oh,  mine  is  simple  enough,"  he  replied,  letting  his 
voice  lower.  "I  want  to  get  a  quiet  hour  with  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers  in  regard  to  matters  down  south.  They're  dread- 
ful, Mrs.  Carruthers,  and  Congress  ought  to  know  it,  and 
do  something  to  remedy  the  situation.  Mr.  Carruthers 
from  his  position  on  the  committee  is  the  very  man,  but 
I  haven't  been  able  to  reach  him." 

"You  shall,  you  shall,"  cried  Bertha  readily.  "Let  me 
see;  next  week  Tuesday  is  our  first  time  disengaged.  Of 
course  there's  the  diplomatic  reception,  but  come  to  din- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  201 

ner  and  you  can  have  your  hour  long  before  we  need  to  go 
to  that." 

"Thank  you  very  much.    When  do  you  dine?" 

"Half -past  six — good  old-fashioned  time,  you  see.  We 
don't  wear  any  of  the  new  fancies  and  furbelows  yet." 

"Whatever  you  wear  would  be  the  best  fashion,"  he  re- 
plied with  a  military  bow,  as  a  diplomat  insinuated  him- 
self past  him. 

"Ah,  madame,"  cried  the  Russian;  "now  the  crush  ex- 
plains itself.  The  world  seeks  but  one  center." 

"Which,  like  the  earth's,  is  a  vanishing  point  at  present, 
Count  Zadovsky,"  laughed  Bertha.  "Unless  you  will  take 
me  to  my  carriage?  I'm  late  already  in  moving  on." 

Slipping  her  hand  into  the  eager  arm  proffered  her  she 
went  down  the  long  room,  glancing  and  bowing  to  all  sides ; 
men  and  women  equally  astrain  to  catch  her  eye. 
People  gazed  toward  her  and  after  her,  as  when  a  shining 
light  goes  by. 

Ethan  Carmthers,  coming  in  late,  saw  her  approach,  and 
stood  among  the  crowd  to  witness  it.  His  pride  in  her 
was  immense;  just  so  should  his  wife  lord  it  over  the 
throng.  He  called  her  his  Most  Magnificent,  and  the  name 
suited  her  most  magnificently.  Decked  in  glorious  color- 
ing, redolent  with  sensuous  attractions,  merely  to  look  at 
her  set  his  pulses  dancing,  for  she  was  wholly  his.  It  was 
still  a  delight  to  assure  himself  of  this  by  watching 
the  change  in  her  when  she  caught  sight  of  him.  Now 
she  was  talking  gaily  with  her  foreign  escort  as  she  slowly 
advanced,  bestowing  recognition  in  pleasant  fashion  here 
and  there,  until  she  saw  the  man  she  loved.  Then  with 
an  exclamation  she  pulled  the  count  forward  hurriedly, 
and,  finding  this  too  slow,  dropped  the  arm  that  fell  stiff 
with  surprise,  and  by  a  few  hasty  steps  joined  Mr.  Car- 


202  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

ruthers.  At  rest  there,  she  turned  to  her  abandoned  escort 
with  an  apology. 

"You  see,  it  is  my  husband,"  she  explained  amply.  The 
count  accepted  the  words  with  a  bow  and  some  murmur  of 
congratulation  to  the  enviable  man,  and  took  himself  off 
like  the  stick  of  a  rocket 

This  was  her  old  friend's  chance,  and  he  stepped  for- 
ward within  range  of  vision.  The  change  in  her  mobile 
iface  was  lovely  to  witness,  and  made  the  onlookers  turn 
curiously  to  eye  the  man  producing  it. 

"My  dear  guardian!"  she  exclaimed,  dropping  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers's  arm  to  hold  out  both  hands.  "Here  you  are  at 
last.  It's  good,  good,  to  see  you  again !  Let  me  make  you 
and  my  husband  acquainted.  I  was  surprised  to  find  that 
two  such  public-spirited  men  did  not  know  each  other." 

She  watched  them  proudly  as  they  grasped  hands.  This 
was  a  very  different  husband  to  present  for  inspection; 
in  Grey's  mind,  too,  the  contrast  tingled.  Camithers  was 
splendid  in  appearance,  a  man  of  power  and  presence,  in- 
telligent, acute.  He  greeted  General  Grey  with  winning 
cordiality. 

"Now  promise  finds  fulfilment,"  he  said.  "You  have 
meant  so  much  to  Mrs.  Carruthers  that  I  feel  I  owe  you  a 
great  deal."  He  glanced  proudly  at  his  wife  in  a  way  that 
pleased  Grey. 

"You  owe  me  nothing,"  he  answered  readily.  "She  is 
the  one  who  has  done  all." 

"Let  us  go  on,"  said  the  lady,  beaming  on  the  two  so 
dear.  "We  are  late,  and  there's  more  than  one  place  yet." 
She  took  Grey's  arm,  but  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  her 
husband  half-archly,  half-regretfully.  It  was  still  a  trial 
to  her  to  be  separated  from  him  an  instant. 

The  three  drove  off  together,  talking  gaily,  and  stopped 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  203 

to  do  their  duty  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  shoddy  mag- 
nates of  the  period,  whose  attraction  consisted  chiefly  of 
terrapin  and  champagne,  but  who  nevertheless  was  of  some 
social  importance. 

"The  last  time  I  was  here,"  said  Bertha,  as  they  waited 
in  the  string  for  an  opportunity  to  alight,  "many  of  the 
guests,  it  seems,  stayed  until  morning,  and  were  served  an 
elaborate  breakfast  before  they  separated.  The  men  of  the 
party  went  straight  to  business,  as  they  were,  and  some  of 
the  women  appeared  at  morning  receptions  in  the  same 
costumes  they  had  worn  at  the  ball.  That's  going  alto- 
gether too  far,  in  my  opinion,  and  I  haven't  cared  to  culti- 
vate these  people  much  since." 

"The  wife  of  a  politician  can't  pick  and  choose,"  observed 
Mr.  Carruthers  blandly.  "He  must  swing  with  the  tide, 
not  stick  on  some  snag  of  personal  opinion,  else  he  wrecks 
his  ship." 

Once  within,  the  party  was  speedily  divided  by  the  crowd 
that  petitions  any  power ;  man  and  wife,  similar  potentates, 
were  at  once  surrounded  by  seekers  after  place  or  favor  in 
almost  equal  numbers;  but  Grey  was  sufficiently  versed  in 
Washington  society  to  appreciate  the  difference  in  the  com- 
ponent parts  of  the  two  groups.  The  people  clustering 
around  Carruthers  were  astute  politicians,  keeping  watch 
on  party  lines  which  were  being  drawn  taut  at  this  junc- 
ture ;  or  lobbyists  who  wanted  bills  passed  or  averted,  whose 
business  it  was  to  maintain  social  affiliations  with  those 
who  could  serve;  and  society  folk,  both  those  attracted  by 
so  magnetic  a  person  as  Carruthers,  and  those  who  run 
after  whatever  catches  the  public  eye. 

Of  this  latter  class  many  also  sought  Bertha,  for  she 
and  the  famous  congressman  matched  each  other  as  do  the 
hands,  and  between  their  hands  at  this  time  the  world 


204  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

rolled — so  far  as  their  little  reach  could  extend.  But  a 
different  element  entered  into  Bertha's  following,  a  finer 
quality  among  those  who  wanted  things,  and  a  few  appre- 
ciative of  iier,  not  because  of  what  she  could  do  for  them, 
but  because  of  what  she  was.  Personality,  the  supreme 
end,  manifested  even  here  its  potency;  manifested  it  here 
most  of  all  perhaps,  drawing  from  this  multicolored  skein 
the  different  threads  which  weave  the  one  texture  that 
endures — the  raiment  of  character. 

When  the  night's  round  was  over  and  the  horses  headed 
homeward,  Carruthers  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 

"How  you  women  can  stand  this  sort  of  thing  all  the 
time  I  never  could  see,"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  enough  to 
kill  an  ox,  especially  after  a  long  day  at  the  House.  But  it 
has  to  be  done,  of  course,  the  way  things  are." 

The  hall  was  a  rich  scene  as  they  entered  it,  even  in  the 
dim  light  contesting  between  dawn  and  chandelier.  It  was 
one  that  never  failed  to  delight  Bertha ;  Grey  watched  her 
lingering  pleasure  in  it,  her  fitness  for  it,  with  a  gentle 
smile.  What  an  essentially  feminine  woman  she  was,  de- 
spite achievement  made  in  seven-league  boots!  She  was 
fairer  than  he  had  ever  seen  her.  Her  beauty  reminded 
him  of  one  of  those  thousand-leaved  roses  that  unfold  and 
unfold,  long  after  you  think  you  have  seen  its  heart.  It 
led  the  imagination  far,  for  beauty  is  the  sensuous  form  of 
the  divine. 

"Don't  delay  long,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Carruthers,  as  he 
excused  himself  and  started  upstairs.  "You  and  General 
Grey  have  much  to  talk  over,  I  know,  but  you'd  better  post- 
pone it  until  a  little  later  in  the  morning." 

"Oh,  it  can  wait  a  while,  I  guess,  since  it  has  already 
waited  so  long,"  she  laughed,  yielding  readily  to  her  hus- 
band's suggestion.  "You  must  be  very  tired,"  she  added, 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  205 

turning  courteously  to  her  guest.  "How  does  the  wound 
wear  ?" 

"What  matter  wounds  since  there's  peace?"  he  said 
quietly.  "Mine  can  be  forgotten  surely.  How  comfortably 
you  are  placed  here!  Among  all  the  fine  new  things  I 
recognize  still  some  old  friends." 

He  took  up  a  grotesque  little  image  he  had  given  her 
years  before,  and  turned  it  hi  his  hand. 

"Yes,  you  will  never  find  it  otherwise  so  long  as  I  am 
I,"  she  answered,  her  eyes  warm  with  affection  upon  him. 
She  did  not  seat  herself,  but  moved  about  with  the  light 
lissomeness  that  was  peculiarly  her  own,  and  which  a  long 
day  of  social  effort  had  not  diminished  in  the  least;  the 
inherent  power  of  it  still  made  him  marvel. 

"Are  Pa  and  Ma  here?"  he  asked,  leaning  against  a 
mantel  to  watch  her  waftures. 

"No,  they  would  hardly  fit  into  this  life,  we  thought, 
and  so  would  be  unhappy.  In  Chicago  they  are  content. 
Another  child  to  bring  up  is  a  godsend  to  them,  and  Mary 
is  turning  out  very  well.  Of  course  whatever  money  they 
need  is  provided,  and  presently  I  expect  to  have  them  on 
for  a  visit,  but  not  just  yet.  Ethan  has  convinced  me  they 
would  be  out  of  their  element  here  during  the  social  time 
of  year.  How  do  you  like  my  establishment?"  she  added, 
looking  at  him  candidly,  with  the  same  direct  appeal  for 
approval  that  had  characterized  her  from  childhood.  It 
touched  him  deeply  to  see  how  simplicity  maintained  itself 
at  the  sound  core  of  this  woman  of  the  world. 

"Very  fine,"  he  answered  with  a  careless  glance  around; 
"but  what  is  incomparably  finer  is  the  estimate  I  see  put 
upon  you  by  all  these  people.  How  little  we  could  dream 
ten  years  ago — !  Yet  I  always  knew  you  would  go  far." 

"Your  faith  in  me  has  winged  my  feet,"  she  responded, 


206  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

in  a  deep,  rich  tone  that  echoed  like  the  sound  of  bells  in 
his  consciousness.  She  put  out  her  hand,  and  they  stood 
linked  a  moment,  eye  to  eye.  "How  good  you  have  been 
to  me  always;  and  always  will  be,"  she  said  soberly.  "It  is 
an  unbreakable  support." 

"It  is  firm,  Bertha;  such  as  it  is,"  he  said  with  a  quiet 
smile.  "You  need  never  fear  its  wavering." 
"I  know;  I  know.  Thank  heaven,  I  do  know  that." 
"Now,  good-night,  don't  let  me  detain  you  longer,"  he 
added,  for  he  saw  that  she  was  restless  to  obey  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers's  suggestion.  How  her  docility  would  have 
astonished  Colton!  By  a  mere  indication  of  a  wish  Car- 
ruthers  gained  what  Colton  used  to  try  in  vain  to 
coerce  with  anger  and  bolts.  Love  alone  penetratingly  con- 
strains. Carruthers,  it  was  easy  to  see,  had  her  completely 
in  hand;  he  could  play  upon  her  as  on  a  harp  of  many 
strings,  and  every  fibre  thrilled  to  his  touch. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  next  evening  a  company  had  been  bidden  to  dinner 
at  which  General  Grey  was  the  guest  of  honor.  The  house 
was  splendidly  decorated,  yet  Bertha  arranged  everything 
with  skill  and  coolness.  She  was  in  her  element  here — 
where  wasn't  she?  thought  Grey  appreciatively — mistress- 
ing  the  house  and  the  occasion  with  dexterous  ease.  As  the 
first  guest  rang  the  bell  she  came  floating  downstairs,  ar- 
rayed in  white  and  gold,  every  movement  supple,  and  her 
face  sparkling  in  quickened  beauty. 

"Do  you  like  me?"  she  asked,  dropping  a  courtesy  while 
he  held  back  the  portiere. 

"You  are  delectable,"  he  answered,  and  she  greeted  the 
word  with  a  gratified  laugh. 

As  the  party  gathered,  Grey  recognized  it  consisted  of 
the  best  people — justices  and  senators,  diplomats  and 
women  of  degree.  Among  these  was  a  small,  benign  lady 
whose  wavy  hair,  silvering  at  the  temples,  framed  a  strong 
face  full  of  sweetness.  Bertha  greeted  her  with  a  deferen- 
tial mien  that  caught  Grey's  attention,  and  he  was  imme- 
diately beckoned  to  an  introduction. 

"Let  me  present  General  Grey,  Mrs.  Maitland,"  said  the 
hostess  with  an  inflection  of  unusual  interest  in  her  tone. 
"He  was  my  guardian  in  childhood  and  still  remains  my 
mentor  and  friend.  Mrs.  Maitland  is  the  high  light  of 
Washington  to  me,"  she  added,  turning  to  Grey.  "You 
should  like  each  other,  because  I  am,  so  fond  of  you  both, 

207 


208  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

and  both  of  you  like  me!"  She  broke  off  with  an  arch 
glance  at  the  two  friendly  faces  watching  her,  and  with  a 
gladsome  laugh  turned  to  the  next  comer. 

"You  are  fortunate  to  have  known  her  so  long,"  said 
Mrs.  Maitland,  looking  at  General  Grey  with  clear,  pene- 
trating eyes,  "I  have  had  the  pleasure  only  a  short  time, 
but  already  I  am  very  much  attached  to  her.  She  is  the 
embodiment  of  life." 

"Yes,  that  has  always  been  her  peculiar  quality,"  said 
Grey,  feeling  himself  thoroughly  at  ease  with  this  stranger. 
"  She  lives  beyond  any  human  being  I  ever  knew ;  she  lives 
thoroughly  on  a  dozen  planes  at  once." 

Their  eyes  following  her  saw  her  greet  with  cordial  charm 
a  sedate,  rather  bent  man,  of  tall  frame  and  face  of  earnest- 
ness abrim  with  geniality. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Grey. 

"Dr.  Otell,"  replied  Mrs.  Maitland,  her  voice,  always 
modulated  to  a  rare  degree,  now  vibrating  with  increased 
sensibility.  "Surely  you  recall  that  amazing  episode  some 
years  before  the  war  when  a  schooner  was  stopped  with 
sixty  fugitive  slaves  on  board,  and  the  captain  and  mate 
were  put  in  jail  here.  No?  Well,  the  town  rose  in  a 
tumult,  and  for  several  days  a  mob  besieged  Dr.  Otell's 
office  where  the  National  Era  was  published.  A  committee 
of  prominent  citizens  went  so  far  as  to  urge  him  to  give 
up  his  press  to  the  rioters  and  pledge  himself  to  stop  the 
anti-slavery  sheet ;  but  of  course  he  refused.  Then  the  mob 
assailed  his  house,  calling  on  him  loudly  to  come  out  and 
surrender.  He  did  come  out,  with  a  quiet  air,  saying,  'I 
am  Dr.  Otell.  What  do  you  want  of  me?'  They  clamored 
for  their  demands,  which  he  would  not  admit,  but  he  asked 
as  an  American  citizen  to  be  heard.  After  some  uproar 
this  waa  permitted,  and  what  do  you  think  happened? 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  309 

Against  all  the  turbulent  passions  and  prejudices  of  such 
a  mob  roused  to  fury,  he  prevailed  by  simple  speech.  Noise 
dwindled,  quiet  came ;  then  began  murmurs  of  assent,  and 
finally,  at  the  right  instant,  a  well-known  man  leaped  up 
beside  Dr.  Otell  and  moved  an  adjournment  of  the  meet- 
ing, which  was  voted  for  in  due  form  by  an  orderly  assem- 
bly. The  crowd  that  had  been  so  angry  melted  away  with 
many  calls  of  'Good-night,  doctor/  and  there  was  no  more 
trouble." 

Mrs.  Maitland  breathed  a  little  faster  as  she  ended  the 
tale,  and  her  eyes  were  shining  with  the  steady  glow  of 
hero-worship.  Grey  recognized  in  her  an  authentic  char- 
acter which  springs  to  glad  salute  when  another  of  the 
same  sort  marches  by. 

"A  commanding  presence  can  bring  passions  to  heel," 
commented  Grey,  watching  the  doughty  reformer  as  he 
talked  with  Bertha  in  fatherly  fashion.  "He  discerns  in 
her  stuff  akin  to  his  own,"  he  added,  after  a  moment. 

"So  do  I,"  assented  Mrs.  Maitland.  "She  would  never 
burn  the  fagot  for  another,  but  she  might  easily  be  con- 
sumed in  its  flame.  I  can  imagine  her  standing  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  John  Brown,  for  instance — a  splendid 
though  mistaken  hero." 

"Mistaken?" 

"Yes,  I  came  to  see  that,  after  years  of  devoted  admira- 
tion. His  cause  was  just,  omnipotent,  as  we  have  proved, 
but  he  went  to  work  in  the  wrong  way.  He  attacked  the 
state " 

"Which  was  supporting  evil,"  interrupted  Grey. 

"I  know  it,  but  the  state  is  greater  than  the  indi- 
vidual." 

"But  not  greater  than  humanity,  and  he  took  his  stand 
on  its  side," 


210  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"I  know,"  she  repeated  patiently;  "but  he  did  so  by 
violence,  by  attempting  to  break  the  laws  of  the  country 
instead  of  changing  them.  His  action  was  splendid,  but  his 
life  was  justly  forfeited.  The  state  cannot  allow  such  re- 
bellion ;  its  own  existence  is  in  the  balance,  and  that  out- 
weighs the  life  of  an  individual  a  thousandfold.  Dr.  Otell, 
on  the  other  hand,  took  the  other  course.  He  had  all  the 
courage  of  John  Brown,  and  all  his  ardor,  but  he  added  to 
these  judgment;  and  see  the  result.  It  was  in  his  paper, 
you  know,  that  'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin'  first  appeared.  No 
one  can  tell  how  widespreading  the  influence  of  that  book 
was,  nor  in  how  many  similar  ways  Dr.  Otell  helped  the 
cause.  You  see,  the  value  of  a  reformer  is  in  exact  ratio 
to  the  power  he  manifests  in  gaining  followers.  That,  I 
take  it,  is  how  a  mere  opinion  gets  to  be  a  principle:  it 
passes  by  degrees  through  the  mind  of  the  race,  becoming 
either  rectified  or  ratified.  Don't  you  think  the  most  excit- 
ing moment  of  life  is  when  you  perceive  a  new  thought? 
There  is  no  force  that  compares  with  the  force  of  an  idea; 
without  length,  breadth  or  thickness,  nevertheless  it  over- 
turns all  that  has  these  qualities.  So  Dr.  OtelPs  method 
brought  to  destruction  what  crushed  John  Brown. " 

"But  his  soul  goes  marching  on!"  exclaimed  the  soldier. 
"Yet  you  are  right;  I  see  your  point;  and,  do  you  know, 
you  have  hit  very  close  to  the  bull's-eye  in  regard  to  Mrs. 
Carruthers.  Evidently  you  understand  her." 

As  he  spoke,  he  studied  with  deepening  interest  the  firm 
little  lady  beside  him.  She  had  well-cut  features,  and  com- 
plexion of  a  clear  delicacy  that  lent  itself  to  the  light  shin- 
ing within.  This  was  focused  in  small,  well-opened  eyes 
where  the  soul  rose  nearer  to  the  surface  than  in  most ;  but 
the  chief  charm  was  her  lovely  expression.  It  showed  a 
character  of  strength  mellowed  by  experience,  reminding 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Grey  of  golden  October  weather  in  which  trees  rid  of  su- 
perfluous leaves  offer  rich  fruits  to  the  hand,  and  the  very 
atmosphere  is  ripe  to  the  core. 

A  justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  presently  came  with' 
deferential  air  to  take  her  to  the  table,  and  Bertha  drew 
near  General  Grey. 

"I  knew  you'd  like  each  other,"  she  said,  beaming  at 
his  praise  of  her  new  friend  as  they  closed  the  long  pro- 
cession. "She  is  the  most  patriotic  of  women;  she  led 
everything  here  among  the  Union  people  during  the  war. 
No,  her  husband  isn't  living;  he  died  a  long  while  ago, 
and  she  mourned  that  she  had  no  sons  to  send  into  the 
army;  but  her  two  daughters  are  like  their  mother,  alive 
to  large  demands,  though  neither  of  them  can  approach  her 
in  breadth  of  intellect  and  judgment.  I  heard  a  man  say 
the  other  day — one  not  given  to  a  particularly  high  esti- 
mate of  women's  capacity,  either — that  Mrs.  Maitland  was 
the  only  woman  he  had  ever  seen  who  was  fit  to  be  Presi- 
dent." 

It  was  a  beautiful  table  at  which  they  sat  down,  elabo- 
rately decorated  with  emblems  of  honor  to  the  chief  guest, 
which  drew  forth  acclamations.  Opposite  Grey  sat  his  host, 
who  fitted  his  position  perfectly.  Excellent  to  look  at,  his 
manner  on  such  an  occasion  was  of  the  best,  and  every 
talent  he  had  was  in  high  burnish.  Grey  admitted  that 
even  his  wife  could  not  eclipse  him.  Many  persons  re- 
marked on  their  striking  likeness  to  each  other  which  went 
into  some  physical  detail,  but  was  more  marked  in  mind. 
The  man  had  an  exhilarating  magnetism  hardly  second  to 
Bertha's;  a  similar  variety  of  interests  kept  them  both 
astir ;  the  same  vivid  attention  to  the  present  moment  gave 
a  keen  edge  to  fluent  speech,  and  equally  fertile  brains  pro- 
vided topics.  Bertha-  differed  from  her  spouse  in  the  tact 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

and  sensibility  with  which  she  subordinated  herself  to  her 
guests,  though  her  attractions  shone  the  more  winningly 
through  the  gentle  shade.  Mr.  Carruthers  made  no  such 
effort;  the  brighter  the  light  he  could  turn  on  the  occasion 
the  better  pleased  was  he.  Stories  fell  from  his  well-shaped 
lips  in  quick  succession ;  repartee  flashed,  sometimes  prick- 
ing to  the  wincing-point  without  effect  on  his  insouciance ; 
the  usual  chat  about  current  events  went  forward;  but 
gradually  in  Bertha's  neighborhood  a  more  personal  atmos- 
phere prevailed. 

"Victory  in  the  end  is  always  on  the  right  side,"  Mrs. 
Maitland  was  saying;  "indeed,  that  is  the  only  end  there 
is.  Every  lost  battle  is  but  a  Bull  Eun;  first  or  second  or 
millionth — it  doesn't  matter  how  the  defeats  roll  up,  the 
only  actual  end  is  Appomattox." 

Bertha  looked  at  her  with  lustrous  eyes;  here  was  a 
kindred  mind. 

"The  result  of  my  observation  is,"  General  Dyer  was 
saying  on  the  other  side,  "that  the  people  are  always  right 
in  the  long  run,  and  never  right  at  the  time.  At  the  time 
they  need  leaders,  and  in  the  end  it  is  the  people  who  carry 
forward  their  leaders." 

"What  did  you  think  of  that  action  of  General  Grant's," 
asked  Colonel  Slocum,  "in  ordering  20,000  men  to  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  West  last  year?" 

"It's  a  very  silly  performance  to  my  mind,"  answered 
Dyer  shortly. 

"Well,  I  thought  it  a  good  deal  so  myself,"  returned 
Slocum,  "until  the  other  day  when  I  had  a  chance  to  talk 
to  him,  and  I  asked  him  why  he  gave  that  order.  'I  was 
convinced/  said  he,  'that  if  the  men  could  see  what  oppor- 
tunities awaited  them  there,  what  farms  they  could  have 
for  the  taking,  it  would  dispose  of  a  large  number  of  those 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

who  might  otherwise  be  dangerous.'  That  illuminated  the 
subject  to  me :  his  wisdom  is  making  those  who  might  be- 
come tramps  found  an  empire." 

"A  pilot  was  asked  once  if  he  were  sure  he  knew  where 
the  shoals  were,"  commented  Bertha.  "  'Oh,  no/  he  re- 
plied, 'but  I  know  where  the  deep  water  lies/  " 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Grey,  "of  an  anecdote  I  heard 
about  Webster.  He  was  addressing  a  crowded  audience 
which,  being  pressed  by  those  who  were  trying  to  get  in 
to  hear  him,  began  to  sway  to  and  fro  with  a  terrifying, 
helpless  vibration  that  rocked  the  building.  Webster 
stopped  short,  and  then,  in  a  stentorian  voice  commanded, 
'Let  each  man  stand  firm/  On  the  instant  the  great 
heaving  mass  stood  still.  "That/  exclaimed  the  orator,  'is 
what  we  call  self-government/  " 

"Such  self-government  is  what  the  South  ought  to  apply 
at  this  time,"  said  Judge  Fessenden.  "If  each  man  there 
would  stand  firm,  our  vexed  problem  would  be  amazingly 
simplified." 

"That's  a  fact,"  said  General  Grey,  earnestness  at  once 
returning  to  his  face.  "If  the  South  would  only  recognize 
that  we  mean  to  deal  fairly,  and  that  we  want  to  make 
things  as  easy  as  possible  in  resuming  old  ties,  Lincoln's 
large  mercy  could  be  carried  out;  but  the  trouble  is  they 
will  not  admit  the  logic  of  the  situation.  I've  been  travel- 
ing down  there,  and  I  know." 

This  statement  made  every  head  turn  his  way,  for  first- 
hand knowledge  of  the  Southern  attitude  at  this  juncture 
was  eagerly  sought.  Reconstruction  was  the  one  topic  that 
held  the  attention  of  all :  how  to  make  valid  the  results  of 
those  long  anguished  years  in  which  the  nation  had  tra- 
vailed to  bring  forth  a  new  era,  which  must  not  perish  for 
lack  of  wise  care.  Grey  went  on  impressively : 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"They  repudiate  all  acquiescence  in  the  results  of  the 
war.  Every  sort  of  ingenious  scheme  to  enslave  the  negro 
without  being  crushed  by  the  government  is  hailed  with 
joy.  For  instance,  a  bill  is  proposed  to  provide  that  every 
colored  man  or  woman  shall  get  a  comfortable  home  within 
twenty  days  of  the  passage  of  the  act,  or,  failing  this,  shall 
be  immediately  arrested  and  given  over  to  the  highest 
bidder  for  a  year." 

"Preposterous!"  was  the  general  exclamation. 

"Even  Americans  can  hardly  expect  human  nature  so  to 
transcend  itself,"  said  Count  Zadovsky  urbanely,  "as  for  a 
proud  and  defeated  people  to  accept  the  will  of  the  con- 
queror without  seeking  to  evade  it." 

"Then  the  conqueror  must  make  his  will  execute,"  pro- 
claimed Mr.  Carruthers.  "If  they  don't  yield  to  common 
sense  they  will  find  force  applied." 

"Surely,  surely,"  replied  the  foreigner;  "blood  and 
treasure  cannot  be  lavished  in  vain.  And  the  North  has 
been,  shall  I  say,  magnanimous  ?  to  a  degree  that  astounds 
Europe.  Those  men  who  are  the  heroes  of  the  world  in 
war  would  have  laughed  at  the  policy  which,  for  instance, 
left  the  negro  to  raise  crops  that  supplied  the  Confederate 
armies  with  food." 

"Who  regrets  the  humanity  of  the  action?"  asked  Mrs. 
Maitland  with  a  ring  in  her  voice.  "We  look  back  upon  it, 
I'm  sure,  only  with  deep  satisfaction." 

"Yes,  count,"  said  Mr.  Leighton,  M.C.,  with  a  smile, 
"we  Americans  like  to  show  the  world  that  old  methods  are 
obsolete.  Nevertheless,  we  are  not  willing  to  let  those  who 
have  fought  us  bitterly  now  dictate  how  they  shall  return 
to  the  Union." 

"Johnson  will  never  permit  coercion  if  he  can  prevent 
it,"  commented  Senator  Dwinell  quietly. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  215 

"He  can't,"  said  Carruthers,  looking  the  senator  in  the 
eye  with  a  significance  Grey  noted. 

"Think  so?"  was  the  careless  response;  but  Grey  had  a 
sense  of  compact  sealed. 

"You  see,  the  negro  has  never  had  a  chance,"  Bertha 
was  saying  to  Justice  Hastings  on  her  left.  "  Economically, 
of  course,  he  has  been  absolutely  shorn;  and,  what  is  of 
more  importance,  on  the  domestic  side  he  has  had  none 
of  the  protection  of  a  home;  above  all,  no  guarding  by 
marriage  with  its  privileges  and  responsibilities  which  op- 
pose the  animal  in  us.  He  has  had  no  chance  to  be  a  man 
• — that's  the  supreme  trouble.  He  has  been  held  as  a  beast, 
a  beast  of  burden;  yet  during  the  war  he  proved  many 
noble  traits.  Heaven  will  out,  however  hell  shrouds  it." 

Mrs.  Maitland  gave  her  hostess  a  startled  glance,  but 
before  such  a  face,  alight  with  generous  zeal,  criticism 
died. 

As  for  Grey,  he  listened  with  a  keen  sense  of  the  develop- 
ment that  underlay  this  valuation  of  marriage.  Here  was 
quite  a  different  key  from  the  one  Bertha  had  struck  to 
clangor  in  her  days  of  defiance.  Love  not  only  had  meek- 
ened  but  enlightened  her.  The  peerless  opportunity  offered 
by  marriage,  day  after  day,  year  after  year,  to  manifest  and 
mate  multitudinous  impulses,  hopes,  joys,  sanctions,  ideals 
— to  foster  through  the  fleeting  the  firm — had  been  re- 
vealed to  her;  and,  true  to  her  nature,  she  carried  the 
vision  immediately  into  the  common  life  of  man,  wishing 
to  share  its  opportunities  with  the  humblest. 

"Marriage,  yes,  surely,  he  should  have  the  full  benefit  of 
family  life,"  replied  the  Justice,  "but,  first  of  all,  he  must 
have  protection  to  life  itself,  and  the  right  to  what  he 
earns — these  are  primal  necessities  for  black  or  white,  and 
they  are  not  the  negro's  now." 


216  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"  Hundreds  of  colored  men  and  Union  soldiers  are  being 
murdered,"  said  General  Grey  sternly,  "and  there  is  not 
an  effort  made  to  trace  the  murderers." 

"That  must  be  stopped,"  exclaimed  Carruthers,  with 
some  truculence.  "It  shan't  be  permitted  to  continue,  if 
Congress  has  its  say,  and  who  can  thwart  the  will  of  the 
people?  We  represent  it — such  men  as  the  senator  and  I 
— and  we  shall  carry  it  out,  come  what  will.  The  Presi- 
dent may  veto  the  bill,  but  we've  got  a  majority  large 
enough  to  beat  him  at  that  game." 

"It  would  be  a  vast  pity,"  came  the  deliberate  utterance 
of  Mercy  Maitland  to  which  statesmen  lent  ear,  "if  the 
even  balance  of  our  threefold  system  of  government  were 
endangered  by  these  disputes  between  Congress  and  the 
President.  Do  we  want  the  legislative  branch  to  become, 
like  Parliament,  all-powerful?  Don't  we  want  rather  to 
maintain  a  steady  equilibrium  among  the  three  functions  ?" 

"It  is  a  momentous  question,"  said  Justice  Hastings 
meditatively,  while  Carruthers  checked  a  retort. 

"What  about  these  tales  of  corruption  we  hear,  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers?" asked  Grey.  "I  haven't  been  in  Washington 
now  for  some  time,  but  I'm  told  there  are  men  here,  and 
women  too,  who  are  selling  pardons,  and  making  other  foul 
use  of  power." 

"No  doubt  that's  true  enough;  where  isn't  it  true,  Gen- 
eral Grey?"  was  the  careless  answer.  "You  know  how  it 
was  in  the  army,  how  it  is  yet.  There  are  always  some 
people  who  look  to  their  own  interests  first,  a  way  which 
after  all,  you  know,  is  the  business  method  that  pushes 
along  trade.  But  as  to  these  trades  in  the  Senate  and 
House — that's  stuff  and  nonsense.  There  are  black  sheep 
in  the  herd,  no  doubt,  but " 

"How  inconceivable  to  think  that  men  entrusted  with 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

their  country's  honor  would  so  defile  it !"  exclaimed  Bertha, 
in  deep,  bell-like  tones  that  resounded  through  her  hearers. 

Carruthers  shot  her  a  piercing  glance  which  did  not 
escape  Grey.  Inside  their  similarity  he  sensed  a  difference, 
a  vital  difference;  centering  perhaps  in  the  man's  lack  of 
reverence  for  things  high  and  of  good  report. 

Long  years  of  practice  had  made  Grey  well  versed  in  the 
art  of  observation — the  vicarious  life  which  formed  his  own 
to  a  marked  degree — so  that,  as  his  visit  continued,  and, 
later,  was  repeated,  he  came  to  feel  certain  jars,  and  to  hear 
dissonances  which  made  him  look  forward  with  apprehen- 
sion. They  were  only  "little  signs  like  little  stars,  the  very 
looking  straight  at  mars,"  but  his  eye  was  accustomed  to 
sidelights  of  intelligence,  and  he  knew  these  transient 
gleams  might  mean  worlds. 

He  said  something  of  the  sort  to  Agnes  during  the  sum- 
mer, when,  after  "the  soldiers'  convention"  had  sent  out 
clarion-calls  to  the  people,  he  was  doing  his  share  in  the 
campaign,  and  found  himself  near  the  suburban  town  that 
was  her  home.  He  seized  time  to  call  and  she  joined  him 
at  once  in  the  austere  library.  At  sight  of  his  stalwart 
form  and  refined,  strong  face,  she  had  a  quick  sense  of 
safety  and  freedom.  He  sent  up  the  lark  in  her — the  lark 
that  has  its  nest  in  the  life-giving  gram,  and  soars  high 
filling  the  air  with  melody. 

"Bertha  insisted  I  should  deliver  you  her  love  in  per- 
son," he  said,  smiling  as  they  grasped  hands. 

"  She  knew  I  would  be  glad  to  see  you,"  was  the  simple 
answer,  said  in  a  tone  that  Grey  found  very  sweet.  The 
girl  was  looking  worn,  he  noted ;  underneath  present  pleas- 
ure, past  pain  showed.  "When  were  you  with  her?" 

"A  fortnight  ago."  They  seated  themselves  and  settled 
to  a  good, chat.  "She  is  immensely  interested  in  the  cam- 


218  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

paign.  Camithers  is  running  again,  you  know,  and  of 
course  he  will  win.  She  is  clever  in  keeping  herself  out 
of  sight  where  she  would  mar  the  game,  and  yet  makes 
herself  a  potent  influence  in  his  favor.  Carruthers  did  an 
able  stroke  of  political  work  when  he  won  her,  I  assure 
you;  she  is  brilliant  beyond  compare,  beyond  even  herself. 
You  hear  nothing  in  Washington  society,  so  to  speak,  but 
Mrs.  Carruthers,  Mrs.  Carruthers;  yet  he  holds  his  own 
and  forges  ahead." 

"Is  he  liked  also?"  ventured  the  girl,  covering  herself 
with  an  impenetrable  shield,  while  she  let  this  question 
dart  forth.  He  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"Oh,  he  has  his  friends,  of  course,  and  among  them  he 
is  very  popular.  He  carries  people  off  their  feet,  and  de- 
lights in  the  fact;  that  tells  much.  But  those  who  keep 
their  heads  can  see  things  to  criticize  in  him.  I  am  not 
one  of  his  admirers — are  you  ?" 

The  sudden  question  found  her  unprepared,  but  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  she  answered  in  a  low  tone,  "No." 

"Bertha  gave  me  to  understand  that  you  and  he  did  not 
get  on  well  together;  in  fact,  that  you  had  declined  to  visit 
her.  She  even  tried  to  persuade  me  to  coax  you  to  go  on" 
— the  girl  shrunk  away  and  her  head  drooped — "but  I  told 
her  I  should  not  meddle.  I  had  no  doubt  your  reasons 
were  good,  and  I  wasn't  going  to  make  it  any  harder  for 
you  by  teasing  you  to  do  differently." 

She  gave  a  sigh  of  relief;  no  wonder  she  felt  safe  and 
free  with  him. 

"The  truth  is,"  resumed  he,  leaning  forward  to  trace  the 
pattern  of  the  carpet  with  his  cane,  "I  am  inclined  to 
think  I  agree  with  you.  It  is  better  for  you  not  to  be 
there,  interesting  as  it  is;  and  Bertha  is  too  full  of  Car- 
ruthers and  her  new  life  to  need  any  one  else — yet." 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"Ah !"  Agnes  caught  her  breath  at  this  intimation.  He 
nodded  with  slow  gravity. 

"Yes,  the  dream  is  beginning  to  blur  and  break,  I'm  sure 
of  it.  A  thousand  pities,  too.  They  seem  so  amazingly 
well  fitted  to  each  other.  As  I  saw  them  first,  they  ap- 
peared to  be  in  that  matchless  state  of  satisfaction  which 
springs  from  glad,  full  use  of  every  faculty,  together  with 
ardent  love." 

"That  is  happiness,"  affirmed  Agnes  slowly,  conning  the 
words. 

"If  he  approached  her  in  splendor  of  character  as  he 
does  in  looks,  all  would  be  well;  but  he  doesn't."  Grey 
stopped  his  stick  and  turned  to  face  Agnes,  speaking 
gravely.  "A  man  in  the  political  life  of  Washington  walks 
among  red-hot  plowshares.  He  does  it  without  knowing 
it,  if  he  be  honest ;  otherwise  they  burn  him,  eventually 
they  brand  him.  Very  reluctantly  have  I  come  to  believe 
that  Carrufhers  is  a  type  of  the  evil  influence  at  work  in 
our  politics.  Between  you  and  me  it  may  as  well  be  ad- 
mitted that  Bertha  made  a  mistake  when  she  thought  she 
found  in  him  a  good  man.  He  is  distinctly  not  a  good 
man.  I  know  nothing  of  his  private  character;  she  may 
be  right  there,  though  I  think  character  is  a  unit,  however 
many  contradictions  go  to  compose  it.  I  noticed,  too, 
several  times  that  her  instinctive  probity  frets  him ;  but  he 
hoodwinks  her  protest,  and  she  has  not  sufficient  training 
to  make  good  her  impulse.  He  is  very  intelligent,  very 
capable,  a  power  to  reckon  with  for  good  or  evil;  and  un- 
doubtedly his  public  acts  are  tainted." 

"Even  I  have  heard  rumors,"  remarked  Agnes,  as  he 
paused,  a  vertical  line  of  trouble  on  his  forehead.  "They 
are  true,  then?" 

"I'm  afraid  so.    What  I  myself  heard  belittles  the  truth. 


220  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Indeed,"  he  went  on,  meeting  Agnes's  attentive  and  pained 
eyes  with  perplexity,  "it  is  difficult  to  see  how  government 
can  be  administered  without  being  liable  to  abuse  in  that 
it  gives  opportunity  for  appeal  to  the  most  sordid  qualities 
of  those  men  who  see  a  dollar  in  everything,  and  mean  to 
make  it  their  own  if  possible.  Carruthers,  I'm  afraid,  is 
of  the  sort  who  thinks  statesmanship  is  simply  a  scuffle  for 
power  in  which  every  man  has  his  price;  and  that  the 
richest  man  is  the  strongest  power,  no  matter  how  he  makes 
his  money.  We  are  a  commercial  people,  you  see" — he 
laughed  with  some  bitterness — "and  we  carry  commerce 
into  politics,  where  it  doesn't  in  the  least  belong.  I  don't 
mean  that  men  are  bought  out  and  out,  though  that  some- 
times happens;  but  Jove  puts  on  many  disguises  to  lure 
mortals  to  dishonor.  Then,  again,  the  war  has  organized 
political  forces,  and  made  dominant  that  which  is  the 
strongest.  Just  as  long  as  right  is  nobly  might,  it  is  as  it 
should  be;  but  when  right  degenerates  into  mere  might 
it  is  all  wrong.  That  is  where  Carruthers  and  men  of  his 
class  stand :  force,  you  shall — that  is  the  speech.  It  augurs 
evil  to  the  country  when  such  men  are  at  the  helm."  He 
stopped  with  a  frown  that  would  have  been  stern  had  it 
been  less  harassed.  "How  unutterably  we  miss  Lincoln!" 
he  added  then,  with  deep  yearning.  "He  would  have 
known  how  to  win  rather  than  coerce,  and  he  would  have 
had  the  sustaining  confidence  of  the  people.  Now  there  is 
no  man  to  whom  we  can  pin  our  absolute  faith." 

"  Can  we  ever,  to  anybody  ?"  asked  Agnes  in  a  low  tone 
that  was  like  a  cry  of  desolation.  It  brought  Grey  instantly 
from  his  wide  thoughts  to  envisage  life  from  her  stand- 
point. 

"Are  you  in  those  bitter  waters?"  he  asked,  his  eyes  a 
protection  about  her.  "Most  assuredly  we  can  have  faith 


in  people,  unqualified  faith.  Personality,  in  truth,  is  the 
one  thing  to  be  trusted ;  it  abides  when  all  else  ceases." 

"But  do  we  find  such  persons — persons  who  are  all  right 
all  the  time?"  she  persisted,  with  a  wan  smile  for  the  folly 
yet  urgency  of  her  question. 

"Well,  of  course,  if  we  look  for  perfection  the  first  dash 
out  of  the  box,  so  to  speak,  we  are  bound  to  be  disap- 
pointed," he  replied,  grasping  her  thought  and  many  of 
its  implications.  "It  isn't  dashing  perfection  that  we  want 
so  much  as  durable  character,  and  this  requires  time  to 
disclose  itself.  Life  takes  a  lifetime  to  live,  remember. 
Give  it  'room,  room  to  turn  round  in,  to  breathe  and  be 
free!'  That  is  where  Bertha  is  great;  she  gives  people 
ample  room  and  plenty  of  time.  I  verily  believe  she  is 
hopeless  of  none  but  the  dead,  and  in  them  even  she  stirs 
resurrectionary  powers.  Look  at  her  mother;  there  was  a 
deed !  If  that  woman  wasn't  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins, 
she  came  mighty  near  it.  Then  Bertha  arrived,  and  the 
waves  of  life  streaming  from  the  daughter  started  even  that 
lethargic  mother  into  growth.  You  and  I  saw  her  perform 
miracles  before  that,  but  aren't  we  continually  astonished? 
I  tell  you,  living  is  a  tremendous  art,  an  immense  transac- 
tion. The  Vanderbilts  are  said  to  have  bought  opportuni- 
ties and  sold  achievements;  Bertha  does  something  of  the 
sort  with  life;  she  earns  the  right  to  take  good  wherever 
she  finds  it,  and  gives  it  freely  to  whoever  needs.  That's 
the  true  social  idea,  and  when  she  gets  it  worked  out  thor- 
oughly she'll  surprise  us  again." 

Agnes  listened  enchanted  to  this  praise  of  her  friend 
whom  she  trusted  through  every  doubt;  it  was  delicious 
food  to  her  famished  heart.  She  met  his  eyes  gratefully, 
but  there  was  still  deep  sadness  in  her  look. 

"I  wish  you  could  know  a  friend  of  Bertha's  there  in 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Washington,"  resumed  Grey  presently.  "She  came  to  mind 
a  moment  ago  when  I  was  speaking  of  Lincoln ;  she  is  more 
like  him  than  any  woman  I  know — large,  firm,  clear- 
minded,  merciful.  That  is  her  name  by  the  way,  Mercy- 
Mercy  Maitland." 

"She  and  Bertha  are  close  friends,  you  say?"  asked 
Agnes,  quick  interest  alive  in  her  tone.  Whatever  touched 
her  beloved  friend  became  to  the  girl  a  vital  spark. 

"Yes,  the  high-light  of  Washington,  she  calls  her.  I  met 
her  several  times;  she  is  a  quiet  woman,  rather  slow,  but 
when  the  bow  twangs  her  arrow  hits  the  mark.  Behind 
whatever  she  says  character  stands  in  bulk  and  power.  She 
has  discernment  as  well  as  charity,  and  when  you  are  with 
her  you  are  gripped  by  the  conviction  that  here  is  one  on 
whom  you  can  wholly  rely." 

"How  beautiful!  And  what  a  blessing  for  Bertha!" 
Not  the  faintest  hint  of  jealousy  was  in  her  tone;  she  was 
full-heartedly  glad  on  her  friend's  account. 

"Yes;  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  me  to  think  of  her  within 
reach  of  Bertha.  She  is  a  life-saving  station  if  ever  there 
was  one." 

They  talked  about  various  things  for  some  time  until 
finally  he  said: 

"How  about  yourself,  my  dear  friend?  You  look  as  if 
life  were  more  than  stale  and  flat  because  of  Bertha's 
absence.  Is  it  intrinsic  loneliness?" 

She  nodded  softly  in  answer  to  his  gentle  penetration, 
tears  springing  to  her  eyes  as  the  hunger  was  momentarily 
appeased.  In  the  fundamental  division  of  humanity  (not 
into  male  and  female,  for  nothing  of  this  duality  obtruded 
itself  into  a  friendship  based  on  the  unity  of  mankind) 
they  stood  together.  He,  indeed,  had  known  something  of 
the  mystery  where  two  souls  fuse ;  but  that  region  had  been 


closed  if  sacred  ground  to  him  for  many  years.  It  is  im- 
possible to  live  actively  in  more  than  one  world  at  a  time, 
and  now  is  the  time  to  live  here.  He  had  realized  this  and 
had  thrown  himself  into  the  issues  of  the  day  with  strength 
and  effect — while  far  away  the  gates  softly  closed  that  had 
stood  ajar  for  some  time  before  and  after  his  wife's  death. 

Agnes  had  never  experienced  this  exquisite  intimacy; 
she  even  doubted  its  possibility,  yet  yearned  for  it  as  an 
impossible  ideal.  She  felt  in  heaviness  of  spirit  that  we 
are  inalienably  ourselves,  that  within  this  lonely  fortress 
each  lives  alone,  and  the  immitigable  solitude  of  it  struck 
terror  to  her  soul.  The  very  fact  that  she  had  known  in 
Bertha  one  who  was  able  to  unlock  door  after  door  of  the 
outer  fastnesses,  bringing  forth  the  half-suffocated  inmates 
into  light  and  air,  made  more  harrowing  the  resurgent 
destitution  when  the  advance  could  not  be  kept  up — when 
it  fell  back,  back,  almost  out  of  sight  and  sound.  She  made 
every  effort  to  recall  the  lapsing  nearness,  but  a  chasm  had 
gradually  yawned  between  them;  not  in  affection,  but  in 
communication.  She  would  have  hurled  herself  gladly  into 
that  gulf  as  Curtius  into  the  Roman  depth  could  this  action 
have  closed  it;  but  no  action  will.  Divergence  of  ideals 
sets  between  souls  an  impassable  distance. 

Within  the  precincts  of  her  own  being,  therefore,  Agnes's 
loneliness  was  almost  of  a  density  to  be  weighed  and  meas- 
ured, certainly  of  a  quality  of  spiritual  oppression  to  which 
the  weight  of  the  whole  solar  system  would  have  been  light. 
Grey  understood  her  psychical  condition  well,  hence  he 
knew  it  was  possible  only  to  mitigate,  not  to  relieve  it. 
Each  of  them  was  aware  that  the  subjective  character  is 
by  nature  solitary.  Outward  relations,  things,  mean  little 
to  it,  and  this  brings  about  detachment  from  what  most 
interests  other  people.  Moreover,  in  the  last  analysis,  the 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

pitiless  distance  between  one  human  being  and  every  other, 
which  is  made  sensible  in  such  experience,  cannot  be 
bridged ;  but  cheering  words  may  wing  across  it,  and  these 
he  sent  forth  in  flocks — more  welcome  to  her  than  the 
ravens  to  Elijah. 

"By  the  way,  how  are  the  proteges  Bertha  left  under 
your  supervision,  Pa  and  Ma  and  Mary?"  he  asked  pres- 
ently. 

"Prospering,  all  three,"  replied  Agnes,  content  to  leave 
introspection  that  cannot  be  dwelt  on  long  without  weak- 
ening moral  fibre,  and  glad  to  get  into  the  endless  occupa- 
tion of  considering  others.  "They  feel  it  a  good  deal  that 
Bertha  does  not  have  them  go  to  her,  but  they  understand  it 
is  Mr.  Carruthers's  influence,  and  make  no  complaint ;  not 
even,  I  believe,  in  their  own  minds.  Their  unalloyed  faith 
in  Bertha  is  beautiful  to  behold.  Whatever  she  does  or 
leaves  undone  is  right  to  them  because  it  is  she.  Some- 
times I  envy  them  that  flooding  main  which  covers  all 
shallows;  but  again  I  realize  they  are  not  so  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  her  after  all  as  one  who  discerns  rocks 
and  reefs  as  well  as  deep  water.  Yet  their  method  has  a 
calm " 

She  broke  speech  by  a  little  annoyed  shake  of  the  head 
at  finding  herself  again  in  the  old  round,  and  went  on 
resolutely : 

"They  are  greatly  interested  in  Mary.  Ma  says  she  is 
far  easier  to  manage  than  Bertha  ever  was,  and  it  is  not 
hard  to  believe  it.  Pa  shakes  his  head  a  little  in  silence 
when  Ma  makes  such  remarks ;  he  knows  the  difference  be- 
tween an  eaglet  and  a  wren." 

"Hope  Mary'll  keep  from  flaunting  into  a  peacock,  at 
all  events,"  commented  Grey.  "The  child  is  wonderfully 
lucky  to  be  in  such  good  hands.  Think  what  it  has  meant 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

to  Bertha  to  have  those  old  people  as  the  groundwork  of 
all  her  experience;  I  often  ruminate  on  it.  Back  of  the 
illusions  which  have  lured  her  on  until  she  proved  them 
delusions,  back  of  the  things  of  the  world  she  has  so  in- 
sistently craved,  remains  always  the  unworldly  home  of  her 
childhood,  this  genuine  pair  of  folk.  With  them  she  got 
down  to  the  bare  boards  of  life,  but  if  bare  they  were  al- 
ways clean,  and  set,  for  her,  with  bread  and  honey.  When- 
ever she  goes  home  in  spirit,  she  must  leave  the  world  be- 
hind, but  she  finds  there  what  the  world  can  neither 
give  nor  take  away.  I  shall  be  glad  when  she  has  them 
with  her  again." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BERTHA  fell  into  a  chair,  stupefied.  Undeniable  proof 
paralyzed  emotion.  It  was  beyond  belief  that  he  should  be 
BO  untrue  to  himself,  so  contemptuous  of  every  high  aspira- 
tion; yet  here  were  facts.  Were  they  facts?  She  could  be- 
lieve nothing  against  him  but  his  own  evidence.  Where 
was  he  ? 

She  rose  tumultuously  and  was  going  toward  the  door 
that  connected  her  room  with  his  study,  when  Carruthers 
sauntered  through  it— calm,  debonair,  incomparably  hand- 
some, smiling  on  her  with  affection. 

"Ah,  it's  good  to  find  you  here.  I've  missed  you 

sorely "  He  stopped,  the  easy  words  sticking  in  his 

throat,  as  he  saw  her  stricken  face.  His  sobered,  drew 
tense.  She  approached  him  slowly,  eyes  probing  his; 
searching,  appealing,  imploring  eyes  that  knocked  loud  on 
heart  and  conscience.  His  fell  an  instant,  then  with  a 
mighty  effort  lifted  again.  She  was  close  upon  him,  her 
hands  at  his  shoulders,  lying  heavily  there. 

"Ethan,"  she  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "is  it  true?" 

He  had  steadied  himself  for  the  shock,  but  in  her  strung 
agony  she  was  such  that  he  gave  a  gulping  gasp.  How  could 
he  confront  her?  how  either  meet,  or  fail  to  meet,  this 
gigantic  demand? 

"What — what "  he  stammered,  and  broke  off. 

The  early  autumn  sunshine,  streaming  golden  through 
the  trees  and  decking  the  room  redolent  of  their  life  to- 

22$ 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

gether;  the  complacent  sense  of  cheer  with  which  he  had 
entered ;  her  attire,  rich  and  becoming, — all  struck  athwart 
the  tragic  severity  of  the  moment. 

"Is  it  true?"  she  cried  in  a  low,  husky  tone,  beneath 
which  tumult  began  to  sound.  "Is  it  true  that  you  have 
been  faithless  to  the  high  love  we  pledged  each  other? 
Proofs  accumulate,  but  I  cannot  believe  proof  against  you. 
Tell  me — you  only  will  I  believe — is  it  true  ?  Have  you — 
Bessie " 

He  twisted  on  his  heel,  escaping  from  her  hands;  his 
head  was  high,  but  his  back  was  turned. 

"Oh,  she's  been  talking,  has  she?"  he  said  in  a  hard 
voice.  "These  chits  never  can  hold  their  tongues.  She 
makes  much  out  of  little,  she " 

"Stop!"  came  the  deep  command.  "Between  you  and 
me  it  is  of  no  consequence  what  she  may  be;  you  and  I 
alone  face  this.  Face  it  we  must,  now  and  here."  With  a 
couple  of  long,  lissome  strides  she  confronted  him  again, 
but  this  time  without  a  touch.  "Tell  me  you  are  true; 
oh,  tell  me "  Her  voice  choked,  her  eyes  filled  sud- 
denly, but  as  suddenly  cleared:  it  was  no  moment  for 
clouds.  "I  would  believe  you  against  the  testimony  of  all, 
ay,  even  of  myself.  Tell  me " 

"Tell  you  what?"  he  said,  seizing  his  course.  In  such 
a  cul-de-sac  guarded  by  her  towering  personality,  it  seemed 
the  sole,  desperate  way.  Her  love  might  lend  him  strength 
to  toss  her  over  the  unscalable  wall.  He  sprung  to  her, 
taking  her  in  his  arms.  "Tell  you  that  nothing  whatever 
touches  my  love  for  you,"  he  urged,  his  face  close  to  hers, 
"that  nothing  whatever  impinges  on  my  joy  in  you,  that  I 
am  as  certainly  yours  as  ever?" 

"Entirely,  entirely  mine?  Have  you  not  been  false  for 
an  hour  to  the  love  we  pledged?"  She  put  him  away,  to 


228  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

hold  him  by  her  eyes,  purged  for  the  moment  of  all  passion, 
deep  with  tortured  love,  but  clear  also  with  penetrating 
insight. 

"Oh,  what  has  an  hour  to  do  with  our  love?"  he  ex- 
claimed— before  those  eyes  he  could  not  lie.  "It  is  eternal. 
I  love  you  to-day  beyond  all  I've  ever  loved  you,  Bertha ! 
Mine !  my  own  precious  wife !"  He  wound  his  arms  about 
her,  crushing  her  to  him.  She  quivered  from  head  to  foot, 
her  organism  at  his  mercy,  her  overwhelming  love  for  him 
at  flood — 

But  even  as  their  lips  clung  together,  she  pushed  him 
abruptly  away.  Her  bosom  heaving,  she  cried : 

"No I  no!  not  now.  We  shame  our  love  in  slighting  its 
holiest  covenant.  Husband  and  wife  are  absolutely  one  to 
one,  or  marriage  is  murdered.  Have  you  slain  our  love, 

Ethan,  our  glorious,  joyous  love  ?  And  for  an  hour's " 

She  probed  into  his  soul,  and  it  blenched  before  her.  "  Oh ! 

am  I  alone  again  ?  Shall  we  never "  She  dropped  on 

the  sofa  and  let  her  face  fall  among  the  pillows. 

He  said  no  word,  but  sat  down  close  and  tried  to  draw 
her  to  him ;  she  resisted. 

"No,  no.    Tell  me  it  is  not  true,  or — leave  me." 

"Never!"  He  got  his  arms  about  her  now  and  his  lips 
curved  in  a  smile  of  conscious  power.  "Why  in  the  world 
are  you  worrying  yourself  so,  dear?  Our  relations  are  not 
affected  in  the  least.  The  path  was  dusty  in  your  absence ; 
if  I  plucked  an  apple  by  the  roadside  it's  what  every  man 
does  when  his  wife  is  away.  Stay  with  me,  and  I'll  never 
stray — I  promise  you  that,  my  Cleopatra,  magician  of  end- 
less charms,  necromancer!" 

"Faugh!"  She  leaped  to  her  feet,  brushing  aside  dis- 
ordered hair  that  glistened  to  glory  in  the  sunlight.  Head 
thrown  back,  eyes  blazing,  she  faced  him — sublime. 


"Don't  dare  to  use  those  words  now !  Either  you  are  my 
husband,  your  body  my  sanctuary,  vowed  to  our  love  and 
firm  to  that  alone — or  you  are  nothing  to  me."  Her  mien 
changed  from  indignation  to  poignant  pathos.  "Have  we 
lost  all  ?  Are  you  not  mine  ?  Every  word  you  speak  rid- 
dles the  past,  robs  the  present,  annuls  our  future.  Oh, 
Ethan !  is  it  true  ?  Are  you  no  more  my  husband  ?  Have 
you  never  been  mine — really,  with  the  soul  in  it?"  She 
stretched  longing  arms  toward  him,  but  her  feet  were 
nailed  to  the  spot. 

He  sat,  head  in  hands,  power  gone  from  him,  his  jaunty 
air  become  listless,  abject.  Something  in  her  rang  great 
bells  within  him,  a  sound  of  menace,  almost  of  doom.  He 
felt  himself  carried  out  on  a  dark  tide — Whither?  Why? 
He  raised  his  head,  leaning  his  chin  on  his  hands  and 
gazed  at  her.  Of  a  sudden,  he  seemed  strangely  aloof  from 
it  all,  quiescent — 

"I  have  loved  you  with  my  whole  being,"  she  said,  sum- 
ming up  the  creed  of  love  as  she  stood  there,  upright,  to 
him  'angelic  with  the  light  in  her  face,  that  glory  on  her 
hair;  "body,  soul  and  spirit  were  filled  full  of  love  for  you. 
You  know  it  well ;  I  thought  you  felt  the  same.  Was  our 
life  never  a  temple  to  you,  Ethan,  love  its  shrine?  Did 
heaven  itself  not  brood  for  you  over  our  ecstasies  ?  Oh,  to 

think "  Her  voice,  resonant  of  the  soul's  great  surge, 

broke  to  a  moan.  "Now  all  is  despoiled,  defiled,  gone. 
It's  gone,  Ethan;  our  love  is  gone."  Indescribably  pene- 
trating came  the  wail,  "  Oh,  my  baby,  my  love !  Gone,  both 
are  gone;  dead,  gone!" 

She  lapsed  into  a  seat,  and  stared  tearless  at  the  floor. 
A  slaughter  of  the  innocents — 

He  got  up,  shaking  himself  together,  impatient  of  his 
own  feeling  as  well  as  of  her. 


230  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"This  is  nonsense,  Bertha,"  he  said  roughly;  "you  are 
making  a  mountain  out  of  a  molehill.  You  magnify  into 
tragic  shapes  what  every  wife  has  to  overlook.  Nothing  is 
dead  or  gone.  You  are  here,  and  so  am  I,  and  we  love 
each  other ;  you  needn't  try  to  deny  it."  He  ruffled  her  hair 
in  passing  with  an  assurred  caress  while  he  walked  up  and 
down.  She  shuddered  at  the  touch,  as  he  saw  with  a  qualm, 
and  changed  to  another  key.  "I  myself  am  tremendously 
proud  of  it.  I  never  was  prouder  of  you,  and  I'll  make 
you  proud  of  me  again  yet.  It  looks  as  if  I  might  get  that 
appointment  to  Vienna ;  I  came  in  to  tell  you  about  it.  If 
it  carries  through,  my  Most  Magnificent  will  have  a  chance 
to  shine  in  the  palaces  of  the  most  exclusive  court  in 
Europe — and  she'll  outshine  them  all." 

"Gone,"  echoed  Bertha,  in  a  tone  of  the  utmost  dreari- 
ness, still  at  gaze;  "gone." 

"Oh,  stop  that!"  he  ejaculated  angrily;  but  underneath 
was  a  hollow  uneasiness.  He  shook  her  arm.  "You're  as 
bad  as  Foe's  Raven,"  he  went  on  with  an  attempt  at  a 
laugh.  "  Get  up  and  go  about  your  day's  duties,  and  forget 
all  this,  dear.  You  needn't  fear  any  further — I  prom- 
ise  " 

She  turned  her  eyes  to  him  without  altering  otherwise 
the  listless  languor  into  which  her  body  had  drooped,  and 
his  speech  stopped. 

The  haunted  depths  were  filled  with  ghosts  of  love-hours 
done  to  death  which  rose  in  accusing  array.  Slowly  they 
filed  past,  and  the  man  saw  them.  Not  for  nothing  had 
he  the  Greek  modeling,  the  Greek  instinct  for  form. 
Through  her  eyes  imagination  became  his  judge,  his  ex- 
ecutioner. After  a  long  moment,  he  flung  away  from  the 
sight. 

"We'll  both  go  crazy  at  this  rate,"  he  declared,  striding 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

toward  his  study.  "I've  work  to  do,  if  you  Haven't,  and 
I'll  put  my  mind  to  it."  But  with  his  hand  on  the  knob, 
he  halted  to  look  back  at  the  motionless  figure,  in  profile 
to  him  now,  eyes  again  fixed  on  the  the  floor. 

"Bertha!"  he  protested,  returning  to  her.  A  tremor 
had  crept  into  his  voice,  as  if  something  new  were  opening 
within.  "Don't  take  it  so  hard,  darling;  it  cuts  me  to  the 
quick.  What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  or  to  say?  Anything 
I  can,  I  will  gladly — you  know  that." 

"Nothing,"  she  answered  slowly.  "There  is  nothing  to 
do  or  to  say.  All  is  gone." 

He  straightened  himself  from  bending  over  her,  irri- 
tated by  this  reiterance. 

"Why  do  you  keep  saying  that?  Nothing's  gone,  I  tell 
you.  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  mean — you  meant — our  life  is  at  an  end." 

"/  meant  it?  Never!  Not  a  word  of  truth  in  that 
notion." 

"Your  act  meant  it." 

"Pshaw!    You  exaggerate  absurdly." 

"Would  you  feel  it  exaggeration  had  I  been  false  to  our 
love  as  you  have  been?" 

"Oh,  that's  different.    Women  are  not  made  like  men." 

"You  say  that — to  me?" 

"Well,  it's  what  the  world  says;  I'm  not  singular  in  it." 

"Has  what  the  world  says  entered  into  our  relation, 
ever?" 

"Not  so  much  as  it  ought,  I'll  grant  you,"  he  conceded 
with  a  laugh.  "But  we  made  good  on  that  afterwards." 

She  got  to  her  feet  now,  rose  to  her  full  height,  looming 
eminent  before  him. 

"Ethan,  you  prove  to  me,  cruelly  prove  with  every  word, 
how  little  we  have  ever  been  at  one.  My  love  had  in  it  the 


233  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

spirit  of  eternity;  it  was  absolute  in  thought  and  wish  and 
intention;  it  is  plain  you  gave  me  a  mere  passing  fancy: 
love  is  mocked  by  such  exchange.  Your  life  with  me  has 
been  a  specious  appearance,  a  pleasant  plaything;  to  me 
it  has  been  heart's  blood.  Every  instant  we  drift  further 
apart,  the  resistless  current  is  separating  us  inexorably. 
You  don't  see  it;  you  say  the  difference  between  us  is  of 
no  consequence ;  you  think  all  is  the  same  as  before.  Verily 
I  tell  you,  nothing  is  the  same.  Past,  present  and  future 
have  been  killed  in  the  last  hour.  My  life  is  left  unto  me 

desolate "  She  grasped  her  throat  with  both  hands  as 

if  choking. 

He  turned  to  the  window,  that  curious  sense  of  doom 
again  moving  like  a  cold  touch  among  the  roots  of  his 
hair.  Why?  Why,  indeed!  he  hadn't  the  slightest  fear 
of  her,  nor  of  any  one ;  he  turned  resolutely. 

"I'm  very,  very  sorry,"  he  said,  real,  if  momentary,  com- 
punction in  his  tone.  "I  wish  it  could  be  undone;  but  you 
will  see  that  life  still  goes  on  as  before." 

"Not  for  me." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  leave." 

"Leave !  Leave  me?  What  are  you  talking  about?"  He 
wheeled  to  stride  across  the  room  and  seize  her  arm. 
"Leave  me?  Not  by  any  manner  of  means!  Such  action 
now  would  completely  upset  my  whole  scheme  for  appoint- 
ment as  minister  to  Vienna.  Your  sudden  morality  mustn't 
interfere  with  that." 

She  caught  her  breath  hard  twice  during  this  speech,  as 
one  does  who  is  struck  in  the  vitals.  When  he  ceased,  they 
stood  in  silence ;  he  holding  her  arm;  she,  terribly  blanched, 
with  eyes  sinking  into  him,  through  him — the  empty  form 
of  the  god  she  had  loved. 


233 

After  a  moment,  soon  unendurable,  he  dropped  her  arm, 
and  walked  about,  talking  incoherently  of  the  significance 
of  the  moment  to  him  in  a  political  way,  of  his  importance 
to  the  party,  of  the  country's  need  of  the  party's  full 
strength.  He  brought  out  every  argument  his  cudgeled 
brains  could  marshal,  for  he  felt  the  shortness  of  these  ap- 
peals to  her — one  after  another  fell  a  thousand  miles  short 
of  the  aim.  Yet  he  blundered  on,  for  he  had  lost  all  sense 
of  what  would  touch  her;  in  this  guise  she  was  completely 
a  stranger  to  him. 

"Oh,  cease,"  she  said  presently  in  a  tone  of  such  weary 
nausea  that  chagrin  clipped  the  word  short  on  his  lips. 
"What  is  the  use  of  talking?"  she  went  on  with  a  dull  in- 
flection that  so.on  mounted  to  disdain.  "We  are  hopelessly 
unlike.  While  I  have  been  living  straight  out  from  the 
heart,  serving  your  aims  with  every  talent  I  had,  you  have 
been  calculating,  arranging  your  cards,  playing  a  game; 
and  in  it  you  have  used  as  counters*  your  party,  your  con-1 
stituenfc — oh,  I  see  all  clearly  novj — and,  among,  the  rest, 
the  trivial  trifle  of — me.  I,  the  whole  of  me,  pulsing  with 
love,  you  cast  into  the  scale  as  another  pound  or  two 
that  might  bring  your  way  the  coveted  prize  of  an 
appointment  to  Vienna."  The  cold  steel  of  her  scorn 
gashed:  his  self-esteem.  "The  faith  in  which  I  gave' myself 
to  you  has  been  the  butt  of  your  mental  jibes ;  you  married 
me  only  because,  as  a  politician.,  you  couldn't  afford  to  be 
caught  in  a  liaison.  You  speak  of  my  'sudden  morality' — 
it  is  the  very  fiber  of  my  being,  and  has  been  from  my 
earliest  thought,  that  love  is  Jthe  true  morality.  I  acted 
on  that " 

"When  you  ran  away  with  Oolton?"  he  sneered. 
Stripped  by  her  tongue  of  the  fine  uniform  in  which  he 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

had  paraded,  all  the  coarseness  of  the  man  showed  its  ugly 
face. 

"No,  not  when  I  ran  away  with  Colton,  nor  when  I  re- 
turned to  him.  I  outraged  holy  instincts  then,  as  long  ago 
I  told  you.  It's  but  the  obverse  of  what  I  say  that  my  love 
for  you  was  the  highest  morality  to  me.  To  you,  I  find 
now,  it  was — corrupt.  Oh,  can't  you  see  that  mere  observ- 
ance of  law  isn't  morality?  Morality  creates  law.  You 
talk  of  making  good  by  that  hurried  act  in  the  office  of  a 
justice  of  the  peace :  is  that  as  far  as  your  soul  can  stretch  ? 
Mine  made  good  by  a  profound  and  absorbing  love  per- 
vading every  atom  of  my  being  from  the  moment  that  I 
first  loved  you  until  this  hour — this  hour,  when  I  find  you 
are  but  the  sham  facing  of  a  house  of  life  that  crumbles 
into  dust."  She  turned  from  him,  those  bitter  ashes  dry- 
ing speech. 

The  lash  drew  blood  at  every  cut,  but  he  could  not  leave 
her;  he  writhed,  but  he  stayed:  Vienna.  Eyes  and  ears 
watched  restless,  like  a  half-cowed  animal,  for  an  opening. 

After  a  while  she  swung  around  at  a  distance  and  broke 
a  long  silence  during  which  she  had  been  aware  of  his 
coerced,  obstinate  presence. 

"I  am  envisaging  you  by  this  new,  dry  light,"  she  said 
with  freezing  calm.  "If  you  have  used  me  simply  as  a 
means  to  your  end — the  very  essence  of  selfishness — so  you 
have  used  the  larger  implements — Congress,  your  country, 
humanity.  I  see  now  where  your  money  comes  from :  it 
is  in  exchange  not  only  for  your  honor — that,  from  the 
signs,  went  easily  long  ago — but  for  the  nation's.  You  are 
paid  like  any  other  hireling  for  these  bills  you  put  through 
or  withdraw.  Talk  of  law !"  The  very  essence  of  bitter 
mockery  welled  up  in  an  instant's  laugh.  It  snapped  the 
cords  of  Carruthers's  self-restraint — even  for  Vienna. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  235 

"Drop  that  rot!"  he  thundered.  "You  know  nothing  of 
my  actions  in  Congress,  and  you  needn't  waste  your  time 
trying  to  pin  epithets  on  them.  I  don't  care  a  curse 
for  your  opinions  on  any  subject  whatever — you,  who 
vituperate  and  vilify  your  husband  in  every  relation  of 
life,  simply  because  you  are  jealous  of  a  serving-wench !" 

She  drew  herself  up  to  majestic  state,  opposite  his  angry, 
coarsened  visage,  until  her  presence  filled  space,  crowding 
his  to  flat  annihilation.  Not  a  word  did  she  say,  not  a 
gesture  did  she  make,  but  her  somber  eyes  commanded; 
and,  after  a  whole  minute's  vibrating  hesitation,  he  took 
himself  clumsily  away. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ON  Capitol  Hill,  an  unfashionable  but  high  and  airy 
quarter,  stood  Mrs.  Maitland's  house,  ample  and  plain; 
furnished,  indeed,  with  Quaker  simplicity.  Her  stock  was 
Quaker,  and  explained  to  a  degree  the  liberality  of  thought 
and  sweet  adherence  to  principle  that  characterized  her. 

This  afternoon  was  the  day  she  received,  together  with 
her  daughter  Evelyn  and  a  friend  who  was  visiting  her — 
Lucy  Wentworth.  One  after  another,  or  in  groups,  men 
and  women  came  into  the  pleasant  atmosphere  of  open 
wood-fires  and  genuine  friendliness  for  relief  from  the 
chilly  froth  of  superficial  life. 

A  question  on  which  people  were  agog  at  this  time  was 
in  regard  to  an  attractive  young  woman,  whom  society  had 
accepted  with  enthusiasm,  and  who  was  later  discovered  to 
be  illegitimate,  a  shock  that  gave  it  a  wrench. 

"Do  with  her?"  echoed  Mrs.  Maitland,  her  face  clear. 
"It  seems  to  me  there  is  no  question  about  that;  she  is  the 
one  we  receive,  not  her  progenitors.  But  here  is  Dr.  New- 
come,  he  will  tell  us  what  to  think." 

The  prominent  divine  turned  with  a  smile  on  hearing 
his  name,  quite  ready  to  lead  a  docile  flock  to  pasture. 

"Mrs.  Maitland  needs  direction,  there  is  no  doubt  of 
that,"  he  laughed.  "What  is  the  problem?" 

It  was  laid  before  him  and  his  face  sobered  at  once. 

"Society  has  grave  responsibility  in  such  a  case,"  he  an- 
nounced, drawing  himself  together  in  sacerdotal  fashion. 

236 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  237 

"It  must  preserve  its  life  inviolate;  it  cannot  afford  to 
throw  down  the  bulwarks  that  defend  humanity  from  its 
own  lawless  turbulence." 

"Then  you  mean  that  this  innocent  girl  should  be  ex- 
cluded from  among  us?" 

"Otherwise  society  lets  down  the  bars  to  herds  of  evil." 
"It  was  not  so  the  Church  acted  in  early  days,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Maitland  mildly.     "See  Saint  Augustine,  and  the 
reverence  paid  to  him." 

"He  was  not  born  out  of  wedlock." 
"But  he  lived  an  evil  life  for  many  years." 
"We  can  repent  of  our  own  actions,  we  can't  of  an- 
other's," said  the  reverend  doctor. 

"That  would  mean,  wouldn't  it,  that  the  actions  of  others 
toward  us  affect  us  more  vitally  than  our  own?" 

"Oh,  no;  of  course  our  deeds  are  what  most  vitally 
affect  us,  but  no  man  can  isolate  himself  from  his  race. 
You  should  remember,  my  dear  Mrs.  Maitland,  what  a 
tremendous  drag  there  is  on  all  human  nature  to  pull  it 
back  to  the  animal.  The  institutions  of  society  are  set 
against  this  undertow  for  the  very  purpose  of  keeping  us 
from  drowning.  Let  me  tell  you  of  a  case  I  had.  A 
mother  and  daughter  came  to  me  one  night  at  dusk.  The 
mother  told  me  her  daughter  had  a  child  under  promise 
of  marriage;  she  knew  this  because  the  two  became  en- 
gaged with  her  approval.  The  grandmother  was  going  to 
adopt  the  baby,  no  one  knowing  of  its  origin,  and  she  asked 
me  if  I  would  baptize  it.  'Surely,'  said  I;  'it  is  as  much 
God's  child  as  I  am,  but  this  world  has  no  place  for  it. 
It  is  an  outcast,  spurned  from  birth.  The  best  thing  that 
could  happen  would  be  that  it  should  die,  and  the  best 
thing  you  can  do  for  it  is  to  pray  that  it  may  die.  If  the 


238  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

boy  grows  up  he  will  have  no  choice  but  to  become  a  tramp 
and  a  sot '  " 

There  was  a  general  exclamation  of  horror,  voiced  by 
Evelyn  in  the  cry,  "And  this  is  a  Christian  country !"  She 
had  been  listening  with  large-eyed  earnestness,  and  could 
restrain  herself  no  longer.  "What  of  the  saying,  Suffer 
little  children  to  come  unto  me,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  ?"  she  asked  with  poignancy. 

"It  is  what  I  said,  Miss  Maitland,"  answered  the  divine 
wfth  subdued  triumph.  "The  child  might  be  fit  for  heaven, 
but  was  not  for  earth." 

"Isn't  it  our  business  to  make  earth  heavenly?"  sug- 
gested Lucy  Wentworth,  a  quiet,  independent  woman  about 
thirty. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  interposed  Dr.  Odell,  who  sat  in  the 
background,  leaning  both  hands  on  his  stick,  "that  in  such 
rigid  opinions  there  is  danger  of  sacrificing  humanity  to 
the  family,  instead  of  using  the  family  for  the  aid  of  man- 
kind. The  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the 
Sabbath,  you  know ;  and  to  my  mind  there  is  no  surer  way 
of  destroying  an  institution  than  by  inflexible  insistence  on 
it,  which  surely  leads  to  revolt." 

Dr.  Newcome  turned  away  as  if  argument  on  such  a 
subject  were  beneath  him. 

"It  was  fortunate  the  child  you  mentioned  was  a  boy," 
commented  a  quiet  literary  man. 

"Does  that  make  any  difference?"  asked  Mrs.  Maitland. 

"Yes,  indeed;  it  makes  a  great  deal  of  difference.  Women 
are  proud  of  their  descent,  men  of  their  ascent." 

"Oh,  to  establish  women  as  human  beings!"  cried  the 
impulsive  Evelyn,  moving  off  with  ill-repressed  dissension 
in  her  manner ;  but  Dr.  Newcome  would  not  let  her  escape 
until  he  had  said  impressively: 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  239 

"You  must  admit  that  between  men  and  women  there  is 
a  gulf  fixed  which  is  forever  impassable.  Neither  can  be 
judged  by  the  standard  of  the  other;  they  are  essentially 
different,  and  will  be  to  all  eternity." 

"I'll  never  admit  that,"  she  threw  back  over  her  shoul- 
der, continuing  on  her  way. 

A  newcomer  entered  with  a  thrill  in  his  presence  as  of 
one  electrically  charged  by  some  event,  and  when  greetings 
had  been  hastily  dispatched  he  said  : 

"Mrs.  Maitland,  I  came  here  as  soon  as  I  heard,  because 
I  thought  you  should  know  what  has  happened." 

"Yes?"  said  she,  meeting  his  eyes  with  unruffled  de- 
meanor, but  gathering  herself  together  as  one  used  to 
shocks.  "You  heard " 

"I've  just  heard — it  happened  at  noon — that  Ethan 
Carruthers  has  been  shot  through  the  heart,  and  died  in- 
stantly." 

Exclamations  broke  forth,  and  questions  poured  in. 
"By  whom?"  "What  for?"  "Where?"  "Was  any  one 
else  present?" 

"The  man  who  shot  him  is  from  Tennessee.  He  says 
that  he  is  the  brother  of  a  servant-girl  in  Mr.  Carruthers's 
house.  He  went  into  the  private  office  alone  where  Mr. 
Carruthers  was  at  his  desk;  the  clerks  outside  heard  loud 
voices,  and  then  the  pistol  shots;  they  rushed  to  the  door 
and  took  the  man  prisoner.  He  surrendered  without  a 
struggle,  saying  honor  was  now  vindicated,  and  he  would 
take  what  came." 

"Did  you  hear  anything  of  Mrs.  Carruthers?" 

"She  is  out  of  town,  no  one  seems  to  know  exactly  where. 
At  the  house  it  is  given  out  that  she  went  East  for  a  fort- 
night, and  of  course  she  has  been  telegraphed." 

"Please  excuse  me,  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Maitland,  prompt 


240  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

in  action.  "I  should  like  to  see  if  I  can  help."  And  the 
company  melted  away. 

General  Grey,  in  town  at  the  time,  on  going  to  the  elabo- 
rate house  where  he  had  been  so  lavishly  entertained, 
which  now  had  an  air  of  dreadful  quiet,  found  Mrs.  Mait- 
land  in  calm  command. 

"It  is  good  to  come  upon  you  here,"  he  said  in  a  low, 
heartfelt  tone.  "What  a  terrible  situation!  Do  you  know 
anything  of  Bertha  ?" 

"Only  what  I  have  learned  from  the  servants.  She  left 
last  Tuesday,  evidently  in  distress.  Bessie  is  nearly  beside 
herself  with  sorrow  and  panic,  but  I  gathered  that  she  let 
Bertha  know " 

"Ah!"  Grey  gave  a  long,  pain-burdened  sigh.  That 
stricken  heart ! 

They  sat  a  few  moments  in  silence;  then  he  said: 

"She  must  be  found;  it  won't  do  for  her  to  be  alone  at 
this  crisis.  I'll  get  what  hints  I  can  from  the  butler, 
and  take  the  night  train  East.  There  must  be  some  way  of 
tracing  her." 

When  he  got  back  to  the  hotel,  however,  his  path  was 
made  plain  by  a  telegram  from  Agnes,  dated  before  Car- 
ruth  ers's  death.  "Bertha  at  Saint  Nicholas,  New  York,  in 
dire  need.  Telegraphed  for  me,  but  I  cannot  go;  mother 
dangerously  ill." 

Early  the  next  morning  he  sent  up  his  card  to  Bertha  in 
the  New  York  hotel.  It  found  her  staring  at  the  blank 
ceiling,  awake  but  without  motive  sufficient  to  rise,  the 
lethargy  of  hopeless  sorrow  weighting  every  limb.  Now, 
however,  she  dressed  hurriedly  and  went  down.  Utterly 
bereft  during  this  awful  week,  she  longed  beyond  expression 
for  a  friend ;  when  Agnes's  reply  came,  she  felt  that  she  had 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

none ;  but  here  was  her  childhood's  friend,  her  dearly  loved 
guardian. 

She  was  so  changed  that,  but  for  her  noble  figure,  now 
drooping  together  as  one  who  carries  a  nearly  intolerable 
burden,  he  would  scarcely  have  known  her.  All  color  had 
fled  from  face  and  eyes,  leaving  her  bright  hair  to  frame  in 
startling  contrast  the  drawn  and  ashen  features. 

He  met  her  with  a  great  heave  of  compassion,  putting 
her  hand  on  his  arm  and  holding  it  there  as  he  led  her  into 
a  private  parlor.  He  knew  that  no  telegram  had  arrived, 
and  he  surmised  that  she  had  not  seen  the  previous  eve- 
ning paper.  In  fact,  she  had  not  looked  at  a  newspaper 
since  the  blow  fell  which  shattered  her  life. 

He  talked  of  Agnes's  telegram  and  other  details,  watching 
to  see  if  her  mind  were  responsive.  Her  aspect,  borne  out 
by  the  dull  eyes  that  lay  on  his  as  if  unable  to  sustain 
themselves,  made  him  doubt  the  condition  of  her  mind.  It 
served,  however,  and  presently  he  brought  himself  to  the 
tug  by  saying: 

"There  is  something  serious  in  the  paper  to-day  about 
one  you  hold  dear." 

"You  don't  mean  Ethan,  then,"  she  commented.  A 
flicker  of  disdain  lighted  for  an  instant  the  sluggish  eyes. 
"He  is  no  longer  dear  to  me;  he  has  killed  my  love,  killed 
himself  in  my  mind,"  and  she  relapsed  into  gloom. 

He  took  the  paper  from  his  pocket  and  folded  it  slowly 
so  that  certain  headlines  would  catch  the  eye,  glancing  at 
her  meanwhile.  It  seemed  cruel,  but  she  needed  rousing. 
"Read  here,"  he  said  in  a  firm  tone,  and  he  held  it  before 
her. 

She  looked  at  it  heavily,  gave  a  sound,  put  both  hands 
to  her  head,  shutting  her  eyes  in  bewilderment  a  moment, 
then  opened  them  with  a  frown  of  concentration,  and  read. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

The  news  moved,  shocked  her,  of  course;  but  Grey  was 
amazed  to  find  how  true  it  was  that  the  bitterness  of  death 
lay  for  her  in  the  act  that  had  killed  her  love,  not  in  the 
assassination. 

"Dead!  By  Bessie's  brother's  hand,"  she  repeated  more 
than  once,  as  if  trying  to  realize  what  she  had  learned. 
And  again:  "To  think  that  Ethan — my  Ethan! — should 
die,  and  I  feel  no  more  grief,  feel  even  a  relief  that  his  body 
can  mislead  him  no  more.  Oh,  he  might  have  been  a  man 
to  justify  my  love!" 

She  got  to  her  feet  and  moved  across  the  room  with 
heavy,  dragging  footsteps ;  weary  almost  beyond  endurance, 
yet  incapable  of  rest.  Grey  watched  her,  deepest  pity  in 
his  mien.  The  anatomy  and  physiology  of  life  were  being 
taught  her  by  torturing  vivisection. 

After  a  while  she  sat  down  opposite  him,  saying  in  a 
hopeless  tone : 

"My  faith  in  humanity  is  lost;  all  confidence  in  myself 
is  lost.  If  he,  whom  I  loved  with  such  utter  confidence, 
was  false,  where  is  truth  and  honesty  ?  The  altar  on  which 
I  offered  up  my  heart — my  whole  being — proves  but  a 
charnel-house." 

She  flung  out  her  hands  with  sudden  wildness  as  a 
drowning  man  tosses  his  arms.  Grey  took  her  cold  fingers 
and  held  them  fast  in  silence;  it  was  not  time  yet  for 
words. 

Presently  she  began  again,  fumbling  for  some  explana- 
tion. She  could  not  merely  endure  and  die  like  the  ani- 
mals; intelligence  was  goaded  to  wrestle  with  her  trials 
through  the  long  dark  of  despair. 

"My  life  is  always  given  in  vain;  I  am  thrown  headlong 
from  one  precipice  to  another.  Why — why?  Is  it  foolish 
credulity — a  terrible  lack  of  sound  judgment?  Is  it  be- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

cause  I  take  a  Juggernaut  for  the  true  god  until  I  find 
my  bones  crushed,  my  veins  bled  to  death?  But  how  to 
tell  false  gods  from  true?  Is  there  any  God,  any  truth  in 
the  universe?"  She  turned  desolate  eyes  upon  him  which 
her  guardian  met  with  strength. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  in  the  full  resonance  of  deep  conviction. 
"God  is;  and  truth  is  found  in  what  is  godlike — in  honor, 
nobility,  clear  thought,  never  giving  oneself  the  lie.  If  we 
throw  ourselves  against  the  laws  of  the  universe  we  con- 
front God — as  Ethan  Carruthers  has  found,"  he  added 
solemnly.  Bertha's  wide  eyes  did  not  wince.  "Moreover, 
we  bear  the  penalty  of  misdeeds,  whether  they  come  from 
mistakes  or  from  misfortunes.  A  man  falls  into  the  ditch 
just  as  surely  whether  he  is  blind  or  merely  blindfolds  him- 
self. The  deed  must  be  returned  to  the  doer  because  that 
is  the  law  of  freedom;  one  so  supreme  and  actual  that  it 
cuts  through  every  disguise,  and  presents  us,  to  our  amaze- 
ment and  even  to  our  desperation,  with  the  results  we  have 
at  some  time  carelessly  prepared." 

"Did  I  prepare  Ethan's "  she  began  slowly,  and 

stopped. 

"  Only  you  can  answer  that  question,"  was  the  grave  re- 
ply, "and  perhaps,  now,  not  even  you." 

"Is  it  my  fault  that  he  is  dead — dead  in  evil-doing  as 
well  as  dead  by  an  assassin's  hand  ?" 

She  spoke  speculatively,  without  feeling;  groping  in  the 
darkness  for  something  to  clutch,  even  were  it  a  sword. 
"Perhaps  if  I  hadn't  left  him — yet  I  had  to  leave  him; 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do."  The  inexorable  was  in  her 
tone.  "Perhaps,"  she  went  on,  turning  to  another  pos- 
sibility, "if  I  had  been  better — if  I  had  been  a  truer 
woman " 

"Who  does  not  feel  that?"  he  said  with  great  tenderness. 


244  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"It  is  the  cry  that  ever  recurs  when  the  heart  is  in  sorrow. 
Perhaps  it  is  always  true:  what  one  soul  can  do  for  an- 
other, exploration  alone  can  tell." 

"It  might  have  been,"  she  said  slowly,  as  if  her  words 
drained  off  the  lees  of  unutterable  bitterness.  "It  might 
have  been."  Then  her  voice  fell,  as  a  dead  body  falls,  in 
the  words,  "Leave  hope  behind  who  enters  here." 

"No,  no!"  exclaimed  Grey  resolutely.  "Remember  that 
Dante  put  not  only  those  sad  words  over  the  gates  of  hell, 
but  that  primal  love  made  them.  That  is  by  far  the  greater 
truth.  Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  hell  is  a  proof 
of  God's  love  and  respect  for  us.  Love  wishes  us  to  be  per- 
fect, and  will  not  shut  us  away  from  anything  that  may 
make  for  perfection,  not  even  to  protect  us  from  the  ut- 
most suffering.  It  we  can't  see  what  we  are  doing  except 
by  the  lurid  light  of  hell,  we  learn  by  that.  The  way  in 
is  open,  but  the  way  out  is  open  too.  We  cannot  go  so  deep 
that  God  is  not  there  before  us,  'Thought  I  make  my 
bed  in  hell,  behold,  thou  art  there/  and  where  God  is, 
there  is  liberty." 

So  spoke  the  soldier,  as  brave  and  competent  in  fighting 
the  soul's  battles  as  his  country's,  and  as  invincibly  sure  of 
the  right.  It  was  like  a  strong  arm  thrown  around  one 
amid  pitiless  waves  to  this  life-worn  woman ;  but  she  could 
not  do  more  than  hang  on  that  arm,  a  helpless  burden,  for 
all  strength  had  gone  out  of  her  in  the  loss  of  faith  in 
herself. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  Her  life  that  this  essential  sup- 
port had  given  way.  One  of  her  favorite  sayings  had  been 
that  she  defied  the  universe  to  take  from  her  what  she 
wanted  to  hold.  She  had  wanted  to  hold  Carruthers,  hold 
him  to  his  best  and  make  it  better,  but  he  had  slipped  from 
between  her  hands,  as  it  were,  and  betrayed  her  faith  in  the 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  245 

vulgarest  fashion.  It  was  a  bewildering,  a  soul-shattering 
state  of  things.  It  meant  the  impotence  of  will  where 
exerted  to  the  utmost;  it  meant  surrender  of  the  very 
ground  of  her  being,  hence  the  collapse  of  her  whole  life- 
structure.  Without  faith  in  herself  she  could  have  no  faith 
in  anything.  What  was  so  near  and  clear  to  her  as  her  own 
soul,  or  what  so  reliable  as  her  own  powers?  If  these 
failed  her,  how  expect  anything  to  stand  ?  These  had  failed 
her ;  so  everything  else — her  conception  of  God,  of  human- 
ity, of  love,  of  friendship,  of  trust — fell  in  heaps  on  one 
another,  adding  confusion  to  ruin,  and  desolation  to  all. 

Grey  found  that  she  reacted  to  no  stimulus  he  could  ap- 
ply, whether  of  outward  practical  affairs,  or  of  inner  truth. 
She  needed,  in  fact,  something  different  from  stimulation, 
and  he  took  her,  lax  as  she  was,  to  those  who  had  cherished 
her  in  childhood.  Pa  and  Ma  believed  in  her,  and  she 
needed  the  cradle  for  self-esteem  at  this  crisis.  The  curve 
of  her  character  swept  so  much  larger  a  circumference  than 
theirs  that  she  often  passed  out  of  their  sight  for  awhile; 
but  when  she  chose  to  go  back  they  were  ever  there,  loving 
and  faithful — full  of  faith  in  her.  Grey  left  her  in  their 
hands  feeling  that  here  or  nowhere  was  refuge. 

Tended  by  them  she  lay  prone  for  a  time  beneath  the 
burden  she  was  unable  to  carry,  while  they  ministered  to 
her,  pouring  the  balm  of  simple  love  into  her  cruel  hurts. 
Even  Ma  asked  no  questions,  expected  no  explanations ;  the 
two  old  people  took  her  with  the  simplicity  of  nature  that 
does  naught  but  offer  the  breast  to  her  child. 

Nevertheless,  as  her  wounds  closed  in  this  hospital  of  the 
heart,  and  apathy  ceased  to  imprison  her,  she  found  that 
the  pitched  battle  was  still  going  forward,  while  all  hung 
on  the  issue.  Under  the  very  ribs  of  death  a  new  life  must 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

grow,  or  the  vacant  skeleton  could  crumble  to  dust  un- 
mourned. 

In  her  gathering  restlessness  the  thought  of  Agnes  came 
to  her,  recurring  again  and  again,  until  she  left  the  dear 
old  folks  and  went  to  the  friend  with  a  mind.  Mrs.  Sher- 
wood being  convalescent,  Agnes  had  liberty  to  devote  herself 
to  this  precious  companion  from  whom  she  had  been  sepa- 
rated such  a  weary  while. 

Bertha's  appearance  was  a  terrible  shock  to  her.  The 
physical  effects  of  calamity  had  somewhat  passed  away,  but 
the  face  Agnes  had  last  seen  abloom  with  joy,  and  which 
had  ever  an  amazing  vivacity,  now  showed  lifeless,  except 
when  the  brain  focused  on  its  task — its  well-nigh  hopeless 
task — and  then  the  effort  was  painfully  evident.  The  emo- 
tional fulness  with  which  her  life  had  teemed  lay  blighted 
by  the  black  frost  that  destroys.  Only  the  importunate 
mind,  refusing  negations,  urged  her  to  search — to  search. 

She  and  Agnes  talked  the  whole  matter  over,  from  bot- 
tom to  top,  and  to  the  full  width  of  their  natures.  There 
was  not  a  whisper  of  the  I-told-you-so  spirit  in  Agnes,  nor 
did  it  occur  to  Bertha  to  suspect  it;  in  fact,  nothing  oc- 
curred to  her  but  the  imperative  demand  to  see  why  she 
had  to  suffer  so.  It  ought  not  to  be  in  vain  that  her  ar- 
teries were  drained,  and  her  nerves  stung  to  agony.  She 
should  carry  up  her  anguish  into  the  mind,  learning  what 
had  caused  it,  and  how  to  avoid  it. 

"The  one  thing  that  seems  clearest  to  me,"  contributed 
Agnes,  her  thin  height  and  ascetic  look  emphasized  by  the 
dark  garb  she  wore,  "is  that  when  man  collides  with  a 
universal  law  he  is  ground  to  powder — to  the  dust  of  insig- 
nificance. Our  business  is  not  to  let  emotion  carry  us  into 
the  error  of  thinking  we  are  exceptions  to  immutable  law, 
but  to  recognize  it  as  the  only  thing  of  real  value,  submit- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  247 

ting  to  it  as  to  a  serene  and  absolute  sovereign  throned 
high  above  the  heads  and  sufferings  of  men." 

Her  delicate  face  shone  with  the  fervor  of  her  spirit, 
and  Bertha  looked  at  her  as  to  one  not  of  this  world,  in 
the  promptitude  with  which  she  put  aside  whatever  came 
between  herself  and  what  she  saw  as  the  best.  From  lone- 
liness of  spirit,  strength  and  insight  had  come  to  Agnes. 
Harried  as  she  had  been  all  her  life  by  the  accusing  fiend 
which  insisted  upon  her  guilt  in  even  the  least  heedless 
transaction  that  turned  out  wrong,  she  had  found  it  in- 
finitely refreshing  to  see  Bertha  shake  herself  clear  of  all 
complicity  with  evil,  even  when  Agnes  was  obliged  to  ad- 
mit that  in  the  same  circumstances  she  herself  would  not 
have  been  blameless.  But  now  she  had  a  horizon  that 
dwarfed  their  personalities;  they  dwindled  into  nothing- 
ness before  the  face  of  truth.  She  saw  this  awe-compelling 
vision  so  clearly  that  she  felt  it  ought  to  enlighten  Bertha 
— that  it  would  enlighten  her  if  she  let  go  of  what  stood 
between  her  and  the  light. 

Bertha  recognized  the  distance  between  them ;  divergence 
of  ideals  became  more  manifest  the  deeper  they  went.  The 
obliteration  of  the  individual  in  Agnes's  doctrine  was  to 
Bertha  essentially  false;  and  so  far  as  her  own  conduct 
was  concerned,  she  would  not  give  up  the  idea  that  since 
her  intention  had  been  honest,  her  actions  had  been  moral. 
Of  course  it  was  wrong  to  be  so  mistaken  in  another's  char- 
acter as  she  had  been  in  Carruthers's,  but  this  error  of  judg- 
ment she  felt  incommensurate  with  the  havoc  wrought. 
There  was  no  justice  in  the  plan  of  things,  no  soundness 
without  or  within,  no  solution  whatever. 

Goaded  by  such  lancelike  thoughts  she  left  Agnes 
abruptly  and  betook  herself  to  the  seashore,  whence  a  letter 
had  come  from  Mrs.  Maitland  in  regard  to  some  of  the 


248  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

business  she  had  transacted  for  Bertha  in  Washington. 
The  latter  was  totally  indifferent  to  the  contents  of  the 
letter  until  she  came  to  the  signature,  "Mercy  Maitland." 
The  name  signed  sounded  as  a  summons,  and  Bertha  set 
off  at  once,  without  hint  of  her  approach. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IT  was  toward  the  close  of  autumn  when  she  reached  the 
station  by  the  sea.  Mellow  air  spread  abroad  an  atmos- 
phere of  peace;  the  ocean  lay  tranquil  under  the  golden 
sunlight,  its  deep  blue  reflecting  the  clear  sky. 

As  Bertha  dragged  herself  along  the  road,  a  sense  of 
calm  began  to  filter  into  the  distraction  of  her  thoughts. 
She  drew  long  breaths  that  were  not  wholly  sighs,  for  there 
was  a  tonic  quality  in  this  air  that  expanded  the  breast. 
Presently,  coming  from  a  headland  across  the  delicate  grey 
fields  of  winged  seed,  she  saw  the  slow  figure,  the  sweet 
face,  of  Mercy  Maitland. 

Bertha  stood  still  and  cried  out  the  words: 

"Mercy  Maitland!" 

Salvation  seemed  in  the  name,  and  her  poignant  cry  rang 
along  the  rocks,  amid  the  trees,  startling  echoes. 

Mrs.  Maitland  did  not  start ;  she  glanced  up,  and,  seeing 
who  it  was,  quickened  her  steps,  her  expression  deepening 
and  brightening  as  when  sunlight  reaches  a  cove.  There 
was  something  singularly  reassuring  in  such  quiet  readi- 
ness. She  grasped  the  hands  Bertha  stretched  out  as  if 
pleading  for  succor,  and  looked  into  the  haggard  face,  all 
of  her  present  in  welcoming  strength. 

"Yes,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  thorough  affirmation,  her 
voice  a  blessing.  "Yes."  It  was  as  if  she  knew  how  nega- 
tions had  been  torturing  this  soul.  "Yes."  Then,  taking 
Bertha's  arm  and  turning  into  a  path  through  the  pines, 
she  added,  "This  is  the  way." 

249 


250  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

They  walked  on  silent,  Bertha  with  head  bent  and  shoul- 
ders drooping  under  the  relentless  burden,  but  with  the 
calm  spreading  in  her  bosom ;  Mrs.  Maitland  upright,  mild, 
diffusing  tranquillity.  After  a  little  they  came  to  the  brood- 
ing cottage,  a  picture  of  frugal  comfort,  and  Bertha's 
things  were  taken  away,  and  she  was  made  at  home.  Peace 
seeped  in  as  she  sat  in  the  Shaker  chair  watching  Mrs. 
Maitland  prepare  the  simple  meal. 

"I  am  quite  by  myself,"  said  the  hostess,  now  talking 
easily  as  her  sure  fingers  worked.  "The  girls  have  gone 
away  for  some  visits,  and  I  like  to  be  here  in  quiet.  The 
autumns  are  wonderful  by  the  sea.  Such  days  as  this  one 
has  a  sense  of  power  at  rest  that  satisfies.  Even  storms 
are  in  their  element  where  there  is  ample  space  for  all  that 
winds  and  waves  can  do." 

I  She  talked  on,  recognizing  that  it  made  little  difference 
what  she  said.  Bertha  sat  gazing  at  her  thirstily,  as  a  child 
watches  its  mother  after  separation,  drinking  in  loved 
cadences  regardless  of  words.  Through  the  wide,  weary 
eyes  her  soul  hung  on  this  woman's  soul  with  her  whole 
weight,  feeling  full  strength  there  to  support  her  extremest 
heaviness. 

Later  Bertha  got  to  speech,  sure  of  comprehension.  Be- 
fore this  mother-soul  she  unrolled  her  experience,  fore- 
shortening of  course,  but  speaking  with  a  rare  sincerity, 
since  she  felt  absolute  confidence,  and  was  single-eyed  to 
the  issue.  Nor  did  modesty  forbid,  for  where  true  sym- 
pathy prevails,  thoughts  and  emotions  can  be  bared  as  the 
body  before  one  who  sees  simply.  So  she  told  of  her  par- 
entage, her  abandonment,  the  old  folks,  her  guardian,  the 
fatal  sleigh  ride 

Here  she  paused  awhile,  then  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  face 
of  clemency  before  her;  there  was  a  shrinking  in  them,  a 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  251 

look  as  if  held  to  memories  she  would  fain  evade.  "I  see 
my  life  now  as  I  never  saw  it  before,"  she  said  slowly.  "I 
see  its  many  faults  and  stains,  and  they  make  me  ashamed, 
they  make  me  loathe  myself.  Oh,  why  wasn't  my  life 
hedged  round  with  the  evergreens  of  love  and  watchfulness 
that  other  girls  have!"  she  exclaimed,  clutching  Mercy 
Maitland's  hand  in  an  access  of  emotion.  "There  were 
women  at  the  seminary — good  women,  I  dare  say,  who  knew 
the  danger  I  had  to  meet — why  did  they  never  lift  a  finger 
to  help  me?  But  it's  no  use  to  think  of  what  might  have 
been.  I  am  what  I  am,  what  life  has  made  me;  outraged 
as  I  have  been — outrageous,  perhaps,  as  I  have  been — you 
shall  judge." 

She  went  on  with  her  story,  telling  how  any  interesting 
future  seemed  cut  off  absolutely  if  she  stayed  at  the  semi- 
nary, every  chance  thrown  away  to  become  other  than  she 
was,  and  what  she  was  didn't  suit  her  in  the  least.  "Then 
this  man  who  called  himself  my  husband,  and  whom  I  be- 
lieved to  be  such — this  man  whom  I  could  sway — offered 
me  at  least  a  change.  I  took  the  chances,  I  went  away  with 
him,  I  became  his  wife." 

She  traced  the  sequel :  his  desertion  of  her,  her  relief  in 
being  free  from  him,  the  discovery  that  she  was  with  child, 
his  letter,  Mrs.  Endicott's  advice,  her  return  to  him  for  her 
child's  sake,  the  baby's  death. 

"Agnes  Sherwood  tried  to  help  me  in  that  great  sorrow 
as  she  has  in  this,"  she  said,  with  tender  recognition  in  her 
tone.  "After  I  left  Pa  and  Ma  I  never  knew  what  it  was 
to  be  accepted  wholly — all  of  a  piece,  for  myself — until  I 
met  Agnes.  Dear  lamb  of  God,  how  good  she  has  been  to 
me!  She  is  a  friend  such  as  few  ever  have;  exquisitely 
devoted,  unselfish,  and  with  a  mind.  But  I  can't  see  with 
her  eyes.  She  hunts  avidly  for  truth,  as  I  do,  perhaps,  no 


253  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

less;  but  when  she  finds  it,  she  bows  down  and  worships  it 
with  no  thought  of  self.  I  can't  do  that.  My  self  has  got 
to  have  some  place  in  the  process,  or  I  can't  make  it  work. 
That  may  be  egregious  egotism,  but  it's  me.  If  that  has  to 
go,  I  go  too;  it  cuts  under  my  identity." 

"It  doesn't  have  to  go,"  said  Mercy  Maitland's  clear 
voice.  "On  the  contrary,  it  must  stay — stay  in  its  place." 

"Are  you  going  to  put  it  in  place  for  me  ?"  asked  Bertha, 
a  smile  hinting  itself  for  the  first  time  on  her  devastated 
face. 

"Yes,"  said  Mercy  Maitlaud  quietly,  "we  will  together. 
But  go  on  now;  let  us  have  the  whole." 

So  Bertha  told  of  meeting  Grey  after  her  child's  death, 
of  how  she  measured  herself  by  his  standard,  and  was  found 
wanting;  of  discovering  her  mother  and  sisters,  and  setting 
them  straight  with  society. 

Mrs.  Maitland's  face  glowed  with  enthusiastic  apprecia- 
tion as  she  heard  of  this. 

"What  a  woman  you  are!"  she  exclaimed.  "There  is 
veritable  splendor  in  what  you  do."  She  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  continued:  "I  wonder  if  you  ever  heard 
the  story  of  a  man  who  died  and  went  to  Paradise,  where 
he  met  a  beautiful  maiden.  'Who  art  thou?'  he  asked, 
'thou  who  art  fairer  than  any  ever  seen  by  me?'  and  the 
maiden  replied,  'I  am  thy  actions.'  " 

A  gleam  lighted  Bertha's  countenance,  but  it  sunk  rapid- 
ly again  into  gloom.  "No,  no,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head ; 
"you  don't  know.  Let  me  go  on." 

Her  leaving  of  Col  ton  and  the  divorce  were  briefly  sum- 
marized; and  then  she  came  to  what  put  a  throb  in  her 
voice — the  meeting  with  Carruthers  and  her  love  for  him. 
She  did  not  minimize  it  in  the  least;  it  was  vitally  sig- 
nificant to  her.  However  superficial  it  might  have  been  to 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  253 

him,  to  her  it  was  the  profoundest  reality  she  had  ever  ex- 
perienced. 

"We  met  like  clouds  in  the  sky,  each  driven  by  a  mighty 
wind,  each  charged  with  electric  fires,  each  in  the  plenitude 
of  life,  eager  for  what  the  other  had  to  give.  We  were  alike 
there,  I  know  it.  I  cannot  have  been  mistaken  that  he  did 
love  me  with  all  the  might  of  his  being — for  a  while.  Ah, 
there's  the  cruelty  of  it,"  she  added,  while  her  face  worked 
piteously.  "His  love  was  lightly  pledged  for  a  term  the 
end  of  which  he  foresaw  from  the  beginning;  I  loved  him 
with  no  boundaries,  either  of  time  or  space.  When  I  have 
seen  him  sleeping,  beautiful  as  a  god,  with  all  the  carks  and 
cares  of  life  at  rest,  I  have  knelt  beside  him,  worshiping, 
secure  that  here  was  the  altar  on  which  I  could  offer  up 
thanksgiving  for  love  bestowed,  and  ask  in  confidence  that 
I  might  ever  be  beloved." 

Tears  of  deep  feeling  stood  in  her  eyes  as  she  reverted 
thus  almost  in  a  whisper  to  her  most  sacred  emotion. 
Mercy  Maitland  saw  that  beauty  revealed  its  divine  quality 
to  her,  disclosing  itself  as  a  consummate  end  to  be  attained, 
as  well  as  an  embodiment  to  be  possessed.  She  was  a 
creature  made  not  only  for  sensuous  enjoyment,  but  for  the 
vital  interests  of  heart  and  mind;  which  are,  in  the  end, 
the  only  ones  that  do  not  pall,  inasmuch  as  they  have  the 
incomparable  advantage  over  things  of  sense,  that  they  last. 
Thoroughly  Greek  in  her  worship  of  beauty,  and  passion 
for  freedom,  all  her  deities  took  on  human  shape — the 
spiritual  made  tangible — but  she  could  not  carve  her  statue 
without  the  living  form  before  her  eyes.  She  had  to  have 
models  to  create  her  gods;  then  she  sublimated  them  into 
Apollo  and  Aphrodite.  The  trouble  was,  the  forms  became 
idols  to  her,  and  when  they  fell,  her  ideals  also  crashed 
to  earth  in  ruin. 


254  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Her  face  drooped  again  now  into  lines  of  dejection  as 
she  said: 

"I  knew  little  of  the  man  I  loved  so  absolutely.  I  judged 
him  by  myself,  and  no  mistake  could  have  been,  greater. 
I  never  dreamed  of  deceit  in  him  any  more  than  in  myself. 
When  he  got  a  divorce  from  his  insane  wife  we  should 
marry;  that  was  all." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  attentive,  comprehending  face 
of  Mercy  Maitland,  who  looked  into  their  open  depths  and 
found  there  naught  but  a  sad  candor. 

"I  see,"  said  the  mother-soul.  Bertha  was  sitting  at  her 
feet,  one  arm  across  her  knees;  she  had  never  been  in  that 
attitude  with  any  one  before;  this  gentle,  firm  maternity 
was  to  her  an  entirely  new  experience. 

"He  did  get  the  divorce,"  she  resumed  presently,  "and 
we  were  married ;  but  it  was  in  secret,  almost  by  stealth — 
on  account  of  his  political  position,  he  said.  I  should  have 
understood  then  that  there  was  not  the  reverence,  the  de- 
votion in  his  love  for  me  that  was  in  mine  for  him,  but  I 
did  not.  It  is  very  hard  for  me  to  think  ill  of  one  I  love. 
I  know  it  is  a  fault;  one  should  discriminate.  They  say 
that  among  the  chief  military  qualities  is  the  power  to 
know  what  is  taking  place  behind  the  hill.  I'm  bad  at 
that;  I  expect  people  to  be  what  they  seem.  To  question 
what  lies  behind  the  silence,  or  the  speech,  of  those  with 
whom  I  come  in  contact;  to  set  myself  to  guessing  what 
projects  and  motives  lie  behind  action " 

"Is  to  be  saved  from  many  terrible  mistakes,"  put  in 
Mrs.  Maitland  with  grave  decision,  as  Bertha  paused. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "no  doubt;  you  are  right.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  I  was  totally  unaware  of  what  Ethan  Carruthers 
was  capable  of  doing.  It  took  nothing  less  than  an  earth- 
quake to  make  me  realize  my  footing  was  not  sure.  The  dis- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  255 

covery  came  like  a  lightning-stroke  that  tore  asunder  the 
very  foundations  of  love.  He  shattered  to  dust  the  tables  of 
the  law  of  love — a  law  that  needed  no  thunders  from  Sinai 
to  hold  my  obedience.  But  he  had  no  conception  of  what 
love  meant  to  me.  To  him  it  was  but  a  stirring  of  the 
blood,  begetting  all  sorts  of  imaginative  fancies,  pretty 
enough  in  their  way,  and  to  be  much  enjoyed  while  they 
last.  Faugh !  What  is  treacherous  to  itself  is  rotten  to 
the  core — a  mere  illusion  of  the  senses.  It  vanishes  like 
the  mirage,  leaving  but  a  waterless  desert  as  life's  perspec- 
tive. I  am  robbed  even  of  joy  in  memory,  for  it  was  a 
counterfeit  from  the  start;  the  present  is  empty  nothing- 
ness— I  know  I  am  alive  only  by  the  pain ;  and  what  future 
can  there  be  unblackened  by  the  knowledge  of  his  falsity  ?" 
Her  head  sunk  on  Mercy  Maitland's  knees;  a  compassionate 
hand  was  laid  on  the  bright  hair. 

"Did  death  make  no  difference?"  asked  the  older  woman 
after  a  silence,  tenderly. 

"  No,  none  at  all ;  it  altered  nothing ;  he  was  dead  to  me 
before  Bessie's  brother  killed  him."  Bertha  lay  still  a  few 
minutes,  thinking ;  then  raised  her  head  to  shake  it  mourn- 
fully. "There  was  not  a  possibility  of  any  relation  left 
when  we  parted.  In  that  last  interview  I  saw  him  by  too 
fierce  a  glare  for  the  least  hope  to  remain.  Nothing  went 
deep  with  him;  his  magnetism,  his  personality  even,  was 
a  matter  of  the  surface.  Nobody  was  of  more  than  tem- 
porary value  to  him;  he  did  as  he  chose,  and  let  others 
bear  the  consequences.  He  used  everything  and  everybody 
as  means  to  his  selfish  ends,  and  such  a  self  is  necessarily 
trivial.  We  were  often  said  to  be  alike,  but  in  all  that  goes 
to  make  what  lasts  we  were  the  opposite  of  each  other,  for 
we  estimated  things  at  absolutely  different  values.  In  his 
thought  I  was  stained  by  my  ready  surrender  to  him,  but 


256  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

I  was  not  unchaste  in  that — I  repudiate  the  thought!" 
She  threw  back  her  head  with  indignation  and  got  to  her 
feet.  "Believe  me,  I  have  never  been  a  sensual  woman — 
sensuous,  yes,  to  the  full  redundance  of  the  term — but  I 
never  made  compromises  with  my  ideal  in  my  own  soul. 
Of  course  the  ideal  has  always  been  out  of  my  reach,  but 
what  it  was  at  any  given  moment  of  my  life,  that  I  aimed 
at.  And  it  is  not  true,  that-  chastity  is  an  anatomical  birth- 
mark, neither  is  it  a  condition  at  the  mercy  of  circum- 
stances and  organization;  it  is  a  state  of  the  soul.  What- 
ever may  have  been  done  to  me,  I  refuse  to  accept  the  idea 
of  unchastity  as  belonging  to  me.  It  does  not.  I  hate  the 
•evil  men  have  tried  to  link  with  my  fate;  I  won't  charge 
myself  with  it;  I  disown  it;  it  is  not  mine." 

"But  what  of  the  wrongs  you  have  yourself  committed? 
What  do  you  do  with  those  ?"  asked  Mercy  Maitland's  firm 
voice,  not  without  trenchancy. 

"I  fling  them  away  as  soon  as  I  see  they  are  wrong!" 
came  the  prompt  belligerent  reply  as  she  wheeled  to  face 
her  questioner.  It  was  good  to  feel  the  spring  rebound. 
"When  I  recognize  the  devil  I  cut  his  acquaintance,  you 
may  be  sure  of  that." 

"That's  right.  There's  no  end  to  the  vista  where  that 
spirit  may  lead,"  said  Mrs.  Maitland  heartily. 

"I'm  not  saying,"  went  on  Bertha,  walking  slowly  up 
and  down,  "that  I  don't  do  wrong,  and  don't  cling  to  it. 
I  do.  It  takes  sharp  thrusts  to  convince  me  that  what  I 
want  is  not  what  I  should  have ;  but  once  convinced,  I  do 
let  go,  I  push  it  away,  I  won't  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  it.  That  is  one  of  the  chief  causes  of-  my  misery  since 
I  left  Ethan:  the  ignominy  he  threw  lightly  aside  has 
bowed  my  head  in  endless  shame,  though  he,  not  I,  did  the 
deed.  I  can't  get  rid  of  it.  .Oh,  we  can  bear  anything  of 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  257 

our  own,  somehow — no  matter  how  hard — but  the  sins  and 
sorrows  of  others  that  we  can't  remedy — can't  repent 
of » 

She  paused,  her  hands  pressed  together  tight  as  she 
looked  out  of  the  window  with  unseeing  eyes. 

"I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  admit  that  I  never  did  love 
Ethan — not  the  man  as  he  was.  I  formed  an  image  in  my 
heart  suggested  by  his  features,  by  what  I  took  to  be  his 
personality,  but  utterly  unlike  him  as  it  proved.  That  I 
loved — to  idolatry;  but  now " 

"No,  my  child,  don't  try  to  cut  yourself  asunder  in  that 
way,"  said  Mercy  Maitland  sanely.  "It  is  well  to  leave 
one's  sins  behind,  but  not  oneself.  A  large  part  of  yourself 
went  into  your  love  for  Mr.  Carruthers;  you  shared  a 
mutual  life,  in  joy  and  satisfaction;  now  you  have  a 
sharper  grief  for  his  errors  than  as  though  they  had  been 
your  own.  Don't  try  to  cut  loose  from  it.  You  must 
realize  the  integrity  of  life — it  is  an  integer.  '  You  can't 
divide  yourself  into  separate  lots,  as  it  were,  and  drop  this 
and  hold  to  that.  Personality  is  one,  like  God." 

"Then  you  think  there  is  hope  that  Ethan  may  yet        " 

"Surely.  Mr.  Carruthers  may  not  have  been  what  you 
thought  him,  but  the  possibility  was  there — is  there;  for 
we  cannot  destroy  the  eternal  germ,  whatever  we  do.  Ulti- 
mately some  means  will  act  upon  that  germ,  bringing  it  to 
bud  and  fruit.  Hold  to  it  in  your  thought  of  him.  Ye 
shall  be  perfect  is  a  sublime  and  dreadful  thought — a 
threat  as  well  as  a  promise." 

Bertha's  wide  eyes  absorbed  this  truth  as  a  dry  sponge 
water.  There  was  silence  for  a  space. 

"Life  is  continuous,  not  fragmentary,"  resumed  the 
wiser  woman.  "It  packs  full  without  the  hiatus  of  a 
breath  between.  You,  as  you  are,  stand  responsible  for 


258  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

every  part  of  your  life.  Don't  dream  that  character  isn't 
the  ancestor  as  well  as  the  descendant  of  facts.  What  you 
were,  at  any  given  moment,  determined  in  large  part  not 
only  what  you  did  hut  what  you  had  to  endure." 

She  paused,  weighing  her  words  carefully  before  she 
began  again  her  slow  speech. 

"Let  us  look  together  a  little  at  the  life  you  have  shown 
me.  On  the  whole,  it  is  an  inspiring  spectacle,  one  that 
proves  your  ideal  is  bound  to  win.  The  facts  may  have 
often  been  wrong — though  oftener  right — but  the  use  you 
have  made  of  them  all,  bad  and  good,  has  been  thoroughly 
to  the  point:  to  make  yourself  what  you  think  you  ought 
to  be." 

"Then  why  am  I  where  I  am?  Why  am  I  what  I  am?" 
cried  Bertha,  falling  to  her  knees  in  front  of  Mercy  Mait- 
land,  and  gazing  into  her  face  with  the  anguish  of  one 
whose  perspective  closes.  The  spring  had  snapped  anew, 
and  life  was  down  in  the  same  old  excruciating  ruts.  "My 
life  is  lost;  every  hope  is  gone;  my  soul  is  a  waste." 

"Hush,  dear;  hope  is  not  gone,  your  life  is  not  lost. 
But  this  is  true:  God  is  not  mocked,  and  neither  is  man; 
nor  is  he  deceived  in  the  end,  though  he  tries  hard  to  de- 
ceive himself  with  the  idea  that  grain  and  tares  are  all 
one,  and  will  bring  forth  equally  the  bread  of  life.  They 
will  not;  nothing  is  surer  than  that  they  will  not.  Yet 
the  tares  may  serve  as  a  bitter  brew  which  will  void  our 
system  of  falsity  and  set  us  in  the  way  of  health." 

"Where  have  I  been  false?"  The  imploring  sincerity  of 
voice  and  eyes  attested  the  imminence  of  soul,  but  Mercy 
Maitland  was  equal  even  to  this  awesome  presence. 

"This  is  how  it  looks  to  me,"  she  said  with  simple  di- 
rectness. "You  stirred  Mr.  Carruthers's  nature  to  depths 
he  had  never  before  reached ;  he  loved  you  with  all  the  love 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  859 

his  heart  understood — a  mighty  power,  the  good  effects  of 
which  can  be  but  faintly  estimated,  had  you  and  he  so 
willed.  You  both  chose  the  lesser  part;  you  chose  instant 
pleasure  at  the  cost  of  duty,  and  the  result  is  what  you  see." 

"You  mean — death,  wretchedness?" 

Mercy  nodded  slowly.  "With  you,"  she  went  on,  gen- 
tleness in  all  her  tones,  "it  is  plain  that  aspiration  guides, 
however  much  you  may  be  in  bondage  at  times  to  things 
of  sense.  The  holiness  you  feel  in  the  love  you  bore  him  is 
very  beautiful.  In  all  great  love,  even  though  it  be  a  law- 
less passion,  there  is  deep  significance  of  good;  in  it  man 
touches  the  raiment  of  divine  being.  The  trouble  with 
lawless  love  is  that  it  cannot  maintain  this  high  relation- 
ship. In  some  natures  there  must  be  many  clutches  before 
a  firm  grasp  is  had;  but  this  grasp  is  fidelity.  You  felt 
free  to  enter  into  spontaneous  relations  with  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers,  even  though  he  had  a  wife.  You  threw  caution 
and  friendly  admonition  to  the  winds — the  passionate 
winds  that  blow  Paolo  and  Francesca  forever  through  the 
shadowed  air." 

Affright  began  in  Bertha's  eyes,  but  Mrs.  Maitland  con- 
tinued steadily:  "The  deadly  wrong  inflicted  by  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers  on  your  mutual  love  was  but  the  logical  sequence  of 
what  you  had  both  done  before." 

"Oh,  no!  no!"  cried  Bertha  piercingly,  starting  to  her 
feet.  "Everything  was  different!" 

"Different  in  detail,  but  the  same  in  principle,"  was 
the  firm  reply,  "and  a  self-perpetuating  soul  cannot  live 
without  principles ;  its  life  is  larger  than  a  hand-to-mouth 
existence  provides;  it  has  to  find  something  big  enough  to 
hold  its  ideals,  not  cancel  itself  by  contradictions.  That 
is  why  man  has  made  the  forms  of  social  life — far  from 
perfect,  but  tending  toward  perfection.  For  in  them  is  the 


260  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

accumulated  wisdom  of  ages,  all  tested  by  experience,  all 
bought  by  blood  and  tears.  They  point  out  the  way — the 
way  trodden  and  sanctified  by  those  who  have  seen  the 
greater  good  and  have  risen  to  it." 

Bertha  turned  slowly  to  the  speaker,  listening  with  ears 
that  heard. 

"Through  ages  of  increasing  enlightenment  man  has 
learned  what  is  best,"  went  on  the  earnest  voice;  "or  at 
least  what  is  the  only  path  to  the  best — how  freedom  evolves 
in  accordance  with  eternal  law  and  thus  only.  If  yon 
throw  aside  this  precious  inheritance,  you  throw  yourself 
into  bondage,  and  you  have  to  toil  long,  and  in  distress  of 
spirit,  to  win  emancipation." 

Bertha  sunk  to  the  floor,  burying  her  face  in  the  protect- 
ing lap  before  her.  Amid  clouds  and  shock  she  began  to 
catch  sight  of  the  sacredness  of  contract,  even  if  emptied 
of  its  content.  The  lofty  words  spoken  came  to  her  like 
wafts  of  far-distant  music.  Could  she  once  reach  those 
chores  of  concord  she  felt  that  she  would  be  saved;  but 
they  were  only  momentary  glimpses  caught  through  the 
storm-wrack  which  drove  her  before  the  gale. 

"If  laws  must  be  obeyed  for  freedom  to  be  attained, 
what  becomes  of  reforms,  of  progress?"  she  asked  pres- 
ently, turning  her  cheek  to  the  knee  against  which  she 
leaned. 

"Ah,  that  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  precious  inheritance 
handed  down  through  the  ages,"  replied  Mercy  Maitland 
clearly.  "Between  the  sanctions  of  society,  bought  at  in- 
finite cost  because  of  infinite  value,  and  the  right  of  the 
individual  to  step  ahead  at  the  risk  of  finding  himself  all 
wrong  or  all  right  —  ostracized  or  idolized  —  humanity 
swings.  Deprived  of  either,  time  would  stop,  and  the  whole 
majestic  evolution  involved  therein.  That  is  why  human- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  261 

ity  must  learn  the  art  of  freedom.  My  father  used  to  say, 
'You  must  do  as  you  choose;  if  you  won't  I'll  make  you.' 
In  less  homely  language,  or  rather,  in  all  languages  from 
the  absurd  to  the  sublime,  God  says  something  of  the  sort 
to  man.  'You  must  choose;  you  shall  be  free;  free  to 
enslave  yourself  if  that  be  necessary  to  show  you  what  free- 
dom means.  Try  your  way ;  I  would  gladly  save  you  from 
misery,  but  I  shall  not  interfere,  for  it  is  the  essence  of 
your  being,  as  of  mine,  that  you  are  free.  You  may  insist 
on  eating  husks  instead  of  bread,  but  in  the  end  you  will 
discover  that  true  freedom  consists  solely  in  choosing  those 
actions  and  desires  and  thoughts  that  do  not  limit  you. 
I  shall  have  been  with  you  through  every  throe,  and  I  shall 
be  with  you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world.'  This 
is  divine  and  omnipotent  love  that  shares  its  nature  with 
all  because  it  has  no  limitations.  It  expands  in  a  man's 
soul,  and  negations  go  down  before  it;  man  expands,  and 
leaves  his  negations  to  bury  themselves;  the  mighty  Yes, 
which  is  the  marriage  vow  between  humanity  and  divinity, 
alone  endures." 

Bertha  lay  for  awhile  motionless,  while  the  echoes  of 
solemn  sweetness  pulsed  into  silence,  and  only  the  low 
thunder  of  ocean  filled  the  ear.  Then  she  rose,  and,  bend- 
ing, kissed  Mercy  Maitland  clingingly  on  each  cheek, 
looked  in  her  deep  eyes  long  and  went  out  of  doors. 

Alone  she  paced  the  grey  autumn  sands,  and  watched  the 
break,  break,  break  of  the  waves,  piling  themselves  on  high 
only  to  fall  in  bitter  brine.  What  was  will,  in  which  she 
had  always  gloried?  But  as  a  bird  caught  in  a  net,  a 
winged  thing  fluttering  to  its  death  in  the  web  of  law.  Far 
from  reforming  the  world,  as  her  proud  hopes  had  wished, 
she  saw  in  this  hard  grey  light  that  she  had  done  her  best 
to  throw  it  back  into  chaos.  This  brought  her  to  hate 


262  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

her  sins  and  herself  with  a  passion  that  was  the  reaction 
of  that  which  had  begotten  them,  as  deep  as  the  new  ideal 
which  searched  the  hidden  recesses  of  her  spirit.  The 
righteous  judgment  of  the  world  which  she  now  acknowl- 
edged, as  seen  through  the  minds  of  those  she  most  es- 
teemed, brought  her  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  to  imminent 
self-destruction. 

For  a  day  and  a  night  she  wandered  alone  in  this  ac- 
cursed land  of  damnation.  She  came  and  went  restlessly 
to  Mercy  Maitland's  brooding  cottage;  but  she  ate  nothing, 
she  made  no  pretense  of  sleep,  she  said  not  a  word.  Once 
she  put  her  arms  around  the  soft,  firm  figure  of  her  host- 
esvS,  and  let  her  tall  head  droop  on  the  short  shoulder,  to 
lie  there  a  long  time.  Her  friend  held  her  fast,  murmur- 
ing words  of  tenderness ;  but  when  she  moved  wearily,  let 
her  go :  the  hour  had  not  yet  come. 

Yet  often  while  Bertha  climbed  along  the  rocks,  or  sat 
dully  on  the  sands,  the  anxious  eyes  of  Mercy  followed  her 
from  afar,  hovering  over  this  crucial  hour  whose  dangers 
she  guessed  but  would  not  interrupt;  for  she  believed  them 
to  be  the  throes  of  birth. 


PART  III 


"From  this  it  may  be  seen  how  blessedness 
Is  founded  in  the  faculty  which  sees, 

And  not  in  that  which  loves  and  follows  next. 

We  from  the  greatest  body 
Have  issued  to  the  heaven  which  is  pure  light; 
Light  intellectual  filled  full  of  love, 
Love  of  true  good  filled  full  of  ecstasy, 
Ecstasy  that  transcendeth  every  sweetness." 

— PARADISO.     DANTE. 

''Now  the  Hours  a/re  canceled  for  ihee, 
Pom  and  grief  have  fled  away: 
Thou  art  whole:  let  faith  restore  thee! 

Trust  the  new,  the  rising  Day! 

When  the  crowd  sways,  unbelieving, 
Show  the  daring  will  that  warms! 
He  is  crowned  with  all  achieving 
Who  perceives  and  then  performs" 

— FAUST  II.    GOETHE. 


CHAPTER  XX 

VERY  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  first  blur  of  dawn 
was  touching  the  rocks  and  the  living  sea,  Mercy  Maitland 
went  in  quest  of  her  friend.  Bertha  had  not  returned  to 

263 


264)  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

the  cottage  all  night;  suspense  had  kept  the  mother-soul 
on  the  watch  with  strained  anxiety,  and  now  drove  her 
forth  to  seek  the  one  she  loved.  For  a  great  love  had  grown 
in  her  heart  for  this  questioning,  stricken  child — God's 
child,  with  the  likeness  to  her  divine  origin  clear  in  every 
feature.  Absent  or  present,  Mercy  carried  her  in  the  arms 
of  the  mind,  giving  her  full  liberty  to  cling  close  or  to  turn 
away  as  she  chose.  In  the  hours  of  mortal  combat  the  soul 
must  battle  alone;  yet  Mercy  would  not  fail  by  an  instant 
to  be  ready  when  the  moment  for  succor  should  come. 

There  had  been  a  storm  through  the  night;  not  rain, 
but  a  high  wind,  driving  tumultuous  clouds  wildly  across 
the  moon.  The  granite  coast,  shelving  in  giant  steps  to 
the  water's  edge,  was  wet  far  up  with  high-flung  foam  that 
glistened  on  the  stern  surface  to  the  approach  of  dawn. 
Beyond,  the  ocean  was  tremendous  in  its  throbbing  reach 
of  waves.  The  ceaseless  motion,  the  turbulence  of  break- 
ers tumbling  into  one  another,  plundered  of  their  lofty 
crests  by  the  very  force  of  an  upward  sweep  which  hurled 
them  to  destruction;  the  crash  and  roar  of  conflicting 
waters;  the  buffetings  of  wind,  dying  down  now,  but  still 
gusty;  the  far,  faint  light  that  diffused  a  dim  conscious- 
ness of  what  was  to  be  seen  without  clarifying  any  part — 
all  made  Mercy  Maitland  feel  the  impotence  of  a  tiny  hu- 
man being  in  this  vast  concavity  of  nature. 

She  walked  swiftly  along  the  huge  ledges,  letting  her 
eyes  scout  far,  and  search  around  every  boulder,  until  at 
last  she  came  in  sight  of  an  inlet  walled  round  by  crags, 
where  a  woman's  crouching  figure  lay  close  to  the  edge. 
Almost  touching  her  feet  seethed  the  waves,  combing  out 
the  long  hair  of  seaweed  as  they  ran  back,  tangling  it 
again  in  the  scurry  of  the  rush  forward.  Bertha  was  watch- 
ing the  monotonous  to-and-fro  with  dull  eyes,  regardless 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  265 

of  the  tide  steadily  encroaching  upon  her.  The  break  of 
waves  broke  her  thoughts  into  bits  as  aimless  as  these 
whirling  drifts  of  scud — 

"Bertha,  look  up/'  said  a  lovely  human  voice,  while  a 
hand  touched  her  shoulder.  She  lifted  heavy  eyes,  and 
there,  to  the  east,  over  the  dark  tumult  of  weary  waters, 
she  saw  transfiguration. 

The  clouds  near  the  horizon  were  piled  in  masses  por- 
tentous and  toppling,  but  through  them,  where  they 
thinned,  light  penetrated.  It  showed  itself  as  rusty  red,  as 
deep  rose,  as  orange,  clearing  to  tints  of  green  and  golden 
yellow.  At  right  and  left  purple  storm-wracks  still  hung 
eullen,  but  in  the  center  effulgence  grew.  A  breathless 
sense  of  impending  revelation  held  the  two  women  in  its 
spell — one  a  little  above,  with  protecting  hand  on  the  bent 
shoulder  of  the  other,  whose  chin  rested  on  her  cupped 
hand,  facing  glory. 

It  was  not  until  the  sun  rode  free  of  all  obscuring  clouds, 
dazzling  in  its  splendor,  that  either  spoke.  Then  Bertha 
turned  her  face  upward,  resting  her  head  against  the  firm 
knees  that  backed  her,  and  looked  into  the  sun-illumined 
face  of  her  friend. 

"How  good  you  are !"  she  said. 

The  unused  voice,  exposed  for  many  hours  to  storm  and 
drastic  emotion,  startled  them  both,  and,  to  Mercy's  eyes, 
the  face  matched  the  voice. 

"My  precious  child!"  she  exclaimed  softly,  both  arms 
hovering  around  the  head  and  shoulders  of  this  broken 
woman  whom  she  so  loved. 

They  remained  thus  some  time,  Bertha's  eyelids  fallen, 
while  the  warmth  of  the  rising  sun,  and  her  friend's  dear 
presence,  thawed  the  congealing  passion  round  her  heart. 
Presently  she  moved  a  little,  still  clinging  to  the  knees  that 


266  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

supported  her,  and,  with  a  shudder  and  a  gesture  backward 
to  the  pool,  said : 

"I  was  almost — there." 

"No,"  said  her  friend  slowly,  while  she  pressed  her  close. 
"You  may  have  thought  so,  hut  you  are  not  of  that  kind; 
your  courage  is  sufficient  to  face  your  soul;  and  that  re- 
mains, whether  you  die  or  live.  The  soul  can  endure  every- 
thing, whether  it  be  sin,  sorrow,  exhaustion  or  despair.  It 
can  endure,  and  it  can  conquer;  there  are  infinite  reserves 
of  moral  energy  which  it  can  use  to  recover  its  self-respect. 
Come,  dear,  it  is  time  to  go  home." 

Bertha  rose  obediently,  though  with  stiffened  muscles 
that  hardly  served.  Mercy  lent  aid,  and  hand  in  hand  they 
went  along  the  granite  ridges  in  the  fresh  day. 

The  friendship  thus  founded  "broad  on  the  roots  of 
things — fearless  of  flame,  flat  on  the  nether  springs,"  held 
inestimable  power.  The  greatest  thing  in  life  is  to  set  be- 
fore people  an  ideal  so  attractive  that  they  love  it  su- 
premely. This  can  be  done  only  by  a  person,  for  persons 
alone  win  love.  A  mighty  personality  that  does  not  domi- 
nate but  persuades  to  the  best,  and  that  is  lovable  to  the 
degree  of  its  might,  has  infinite  value — becomes,  indeed,  the 
enduring  influence  of  ages.  Mercy  Maitland  had  some- 
thing of  this  quality  for  Bertha :  she  made  goodness  tangi- 
ble. She  had  wisdom,  too,  and  through  her,  insignificant 
as  she  was,  Bertha  caught  a  glimpse  of  -the  consummate 
flower  of  all  processes — Beauty. 

"You  are  not  transparent  to  the  light," 'she -said  one  day, 
when  they  were  walking  by  the  rippling  azure  that  spread, 
an  unflawed  jewel,  from  rim  to  rim;  "if  you  were,  your 
personality  would  be  unnoticed,  and  it  is  very  apparent; 
but  you  are  translucent.  I  love  to  watch  the  play  of  opa- 
line colors,  the  fire  and  sapphire  of  your  character.  You 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  267 

roll  out  your  wealth  of  mellowed  experience  like  a  lapful 
of  gems,  each  true  to  itself,  catching  the  light  of  heaven 
and  reflecting  it  on  earth.  Oh,  I  love  you  very  much. 
Heaven  be  praised  for  what  you  are,  beloved  Mercy." 

"And  for  what  you  are,  dear.  I  was  thinking  last  night 
that  most  people  are  not  shaken  by  their  efforts  because 
they  have  no  ambition  beyond  an  easy  ability,  while  you 
have  always  aspired  to  the  best  with  the  full  stretch  of 
every  faculty.  Times  come  when  your  soul  is  sick,  but  it 
is  still  undaunted;  exhausted,  yet  ready  to  go  on.  That 
ceaseless  aspiration  is  the  core  of  your  being  and  it  is 
white — white  heat  and  light,  power.  It  has  unguessed 
potentialities  too.  You  realize  more  than  any  one  I  ever 
saw  the  divine  prerogative  of  life,  'the  glory  of  going  on 
and  still  to  be.'  I  look  to  the  future  for  marvels  from  you 
that  shall  astonish  even  yourself." 

Thus  together  they  trod  the  sands,  two  atoms  amid  vast 
immensities;  yet  with  minds  still  more  vast  than  nature's 
widest  spread — the  greater  encompassing  the  less.  They 
talked,  and  parted,  but  to  meet  soon  in  converse  again,  for 
the  talks  of  women  are  long,  long  talks.  They  found  their 
ideals  strangely  fitted  to  each  other,  despite  the  differing 
paths  by  which  they  had  been  approached;  and  it  is  the 
goal,  not  the  path,  that  signifies. 

In  this  atmosphere  Bertha  recovered  her  balance  and 
made  its  foundation  safe — that  marvelous  balance  which 
even  in  her  blind  days  had  withstood  the  shock  of  circum- 
stance, the  whirl  of  fate,  and,  however  dashed  to  earth  or 
caught  to  skies,  never  failed  to  resume  its  equipoise.  Now 
she  was  whole  and  she  knew  it.  Led  by  Mercy  she  recog- 
nized a  coherent  self,  and  found  its  dignity.  The  desire 
to  discover  eternal  laws  in  order  to  conform  to  them  lifted 
her  into  a  realm  of  freedom  where  vision  reigned.  From 


268  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

the  first  Bertha  had  a  divine  instinct  for  freedom;  it  is 
the  incontestable  witness  of  our  heavenly  origin,  and,  in 
the  end,  leads  to  the  unerring  beauty  of  holiness.  Where 
she  had  formerly  walked  with  self-confident  spirit  and  had 
fallen  prostrate  in  consequence,  now  she  had  wings  where- 
with to  fly.  She  rode  the  air — "air,  which  drops  an  ant 
that  hath  not  wings,  yet  buoys  an  eagle  to  the  sun." 
Wings  became  hers  by  shifting  her  center  from  self  to  God, 
the  universal  center.  This  brought  her  into  command  of 
a  new  element,  altering  her  relation  to  everything.  Atone- 
ment is  made  for  all  wrongdoing  and  false  thinking  simply 
by  taking  this  stand,  at  one  with  the  divine.  So  she  came 
into  her  unbounded  inheritance,  sharing  all  that  belongs  to 
God  in  common  with  the  humblest  man,  who  is  sanctioned 
to  the  farthest  reach  of  his  ability  as  the  representative  of 
God,  his  plenipotentiary  to  the  world. 

Evelyn  Maitland  and  Lucy  Wentworth  came  back  as  the 
chill  days  gained  on  mellow  ones,  the  daughter  ready  to 
insist  that  the  cottage  should  be  abandoned  and  return  to 
Washington  made.  The  girls  were  profoundly  impressed 
by  Mrs.  Carruthers's  presence  and  aspect. 

"Did  you  ever  see  any  one  so  changed!"  exclaimed 
Evelyn  to  her  friend  in  retirement  the  first  night.  "The 
look  of  her  took  my  breath  away;  she  must  have  suf- 
fered terrifically." 

.  "And  how  your  mother  sustains  her !"  responded  Lucy, 
exquisite  penetration  hushing  her  voice.  "It  is  holy 
ground  here,  dear.  Don't  hurry  them ;  let  the  world  come 
in  by  degrees  to  this  sanctuary." 

"I  never  saw  mother  take  to  any  one  as  she  does  to  her," 
remarked  the  daughter,  half  aggrieved.  "She  acts  as  if 
she  had  known  her  always,  and  always  loved  her." 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  269 

"Why  shouldn't  she?  Don't  you  go  getting  jealous  of 
your  own  mother  1"  laughed  Lucy. 

"I  do  get  jealous,  that's  a  fact,  and  one  I'm  heartily 
ashamed  of."  She  hid  her  face  in  her  friend's  neck. 

"Think  what  a  delicious  balm  your  mother's  affection 
must  be  to  such  a  wounded  heart,"  returned  Lucy,  patting 
Evelyn's  shoulder  gently.  "But  then  she  does  everything 
well — that  precious  mother  of  yours.  Let  her  manage." 

But  Bertha  would  not  allow  things  to  lag  because  of  her. 
"You  have  put  new  life  in  me,  and  you  shall  not  be 
ashamed  of  the  use  I  make  of  your  gift,"  she  said  to 
Mercy,  as  the  coming  in  of  others  made  them  turn  to  out- 
ward life.  "Just  have  patience  until  I  get  energy  to  do 
some  little  thing  that  may  prove  I  am  worth  your  care." 

"It  needs  no  proving,  dear.  I  have  absolute  confidence 
in  you,  and  I  know  you  will  succeed." 

A  letter  from  Colonel  Grey  at  this  moment  told  of  a 
position  open  to  Mrs.  Carruthers  as  subeditor  on  the  news- 
paper in  New  York  that  had  formerly  published  her  youth- 
ful effusions,  and,  as  usual,  what  she  could  immediately 
put  into  practice  seized  her  attention. 

"That  will  do  perfectly,"  she  said  with  the  stir  of  activ- 
ity in  her  tones.  "Once  let  me  get  a  fulcrum  for  my 
lever,  and  I'll  manage." 

The  little  money  left  by  Carruthers  after  his  many  debts 
were  paid  would  be  sufficient  to  start  her,  and  she  did  not 
disdain  its  use.  "It  is  due  me,"  she  assumed  calmly,  and 
Mrs.  Maitland  agreed  with  her. 

"If  you  want  to  put  a  final  fringe  to  your  garment  of 
devotion,"  said  Bertha  to  her  friend,  "burn  up  all  his  papers 
some  day.  Life  is  burned  clean  behind  me;  I  should  like 
all  the  debris  to  go  too." 

It  was  a  glorious,  bracing  morning  when  she  bade  good- 


£70  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

by  to  her  friends  and  the  wide  glory  of  the  sea.  These 
days  done  in  blue  and  gold,  in  grey  and  storm,  would  never 
"fade  from  her  memory.  She  stood  long,  gazing  out  upon 
the  water,  the  wind  pressing  back  her  garments  to  outline 
her  form.  It  was  youthful  and  instinct  with  life — shoul- 
ders thrown  back,  head  erect,  courage  vibrant.  It  made 
Mercy  thrill  to  contrast  her  with  the  bowed  woman  who 
had  come. 

Bertha  turned  presently,  putting  her  arms  around  the 
benign  figure  by  the  cottage  door  and  pressing  it  to  her 
breast.  "You  can  never  know "  she  began,  and  fal- 
tered. "Heaven  reward  you,  sweet  Mercy;  I  can't;  it 
would  take  Heaven  to  do  it,"  and  she  kissed  her  friend 
softly  many  times. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  next  spring  Austin  Grey  and  Eossiter  Wentworth 
were  driving  down  Fifth  Avenue  on  a  sparkling  morning 
when  the  bright  air  of  New  York  made  the  body  tingle 
with  life.  Mr.  Wentworth  was  a  distinguished  man,  about 
fifty-five,  and  had  a  strong,  kindly  countenance;  his  face 
was  smooth  shaven,  and  the  features  required  no  hiding; 
abundant  dark  hair,  worn  quite  long  and  carelessly  thrown 
back,  framed  a  square  brow  and  firm  chin;  while  the  play 
of  mobile  lips,  and  clear,  clean  eyes,  showed  virile  power. 
He  was  well  known  from  one  end  of  the  United  States  to 
the  other,  for  he  had  always  lived  a  public  life,  being  a 
man  in  easy  circumstances  who  could  devote  his  energy 
to  whatever  he  thought  best.  During  the  war  he  was  one 
of  the  unostentatious  but  powerful  supporters  of  the  ad- 
ministration who  gave  their  services  ardently  and  with  no 
least  thought  of  return;  men  whose  names  are  a  glory  to 
this  country  and  to  humanity.  Identified  with  every  noble 
cause,  he  pushed  with  his  whole  force  whatever  he  under- 
took, and,  exercising  shrewd  judgment  hi  choosing  what  to 
attempt,  he  was  frequently  successful.  He  had  been  an 
earnest  abolitionist,  and  now  that  the  slaves  were  freed- 
men,  and  the  country  was  turning  to  other  work  with 
muscles  strung  to  endurance  and  activity,  his  reforming 
spirit  did  not  die  down.  He  had  seen  a  great  good  arise 
from  tiny  seed — "little,  infinite  things,"  mere  words — and 
he  had  seen  also  an  immense  amount  of  selfishness  struck 
out  in  the  process,  like  sparks  from  stones  under  the  feet 

271 


273  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

of  heavily  laden  horses.  But  the  horses  had  carried  the 
load  safely  to  its  destination  and  were  now  ready  for  an- 
other haul.  The  chief  one  to  which  Mr.  Wentworth  wished 
to  harness  them  was  the  cause  of  greater  opportunities  for 
women. 

The  war  gave  women  a  great  lift;  they  proved 
their  right  to  freedom  by  earning  it,  entering  avenues  abso- 
lutely closed  before.  They  filled  the  offices  left  vacant  by 
the  defenders  of  liberty;  they  took  hold  of  the  plow  and 
the  pen ;  perched  themselves  on  high  clerks'  stools ;  became 
doctor-wise  by  dint  of  hard  nursing  at  home  and  on  the 
field ;  organized  large  undertakings  theretofore  left  entirely 
to  men;  and  thus  in  a  myriad  way  showed  themselves 
capable  of  using  opportunities  wisely.  Eossiter  Went- 
worth, who  never  let  himself  be  run  away  with  by  his 
various  causes  and  the  sympathy  they  excited  in  his  large 
heart,  saw  here  what  called  for  his  utmost  energy : — making 
straight  the  way  before  the  next  great  step  of  humanity. 

"By  the  way,  Grey,"  he  said  now,  as  they  rolled  down 
the  handsome  street  of  brownstone  houses,  "my  daughter 
tells  me  Mrs.  Carruthers  is  in  town  doing  newspaper  work, 
and  that  you  know  her." 

"Miss  Wentworth  is  quite  right.  I  know  Mrs.  Car- 
ruthers very  well  indeed,  have  known  her  since  she  was  a 
child.  She  is  here,  and  is  doing  good  work;  a  remarkable 
woman." 

"I  should  judge  so.  I  used  to  hear  of  her  when  she  was 
living  in  Chicago  and  some  of  her  writing  came  my  way. 
Capital  stuff  it  was,  too;  I  always  meant  to  get  myself  in- 
troduced, but  I  didn't,  somehow.  Lucy  met  her  in  Wash- 
ington and  was  greatly  struck  by  her.  She  was  even  more 
impressed  by  the  attachment  Mrs.  Maitland  manifested 
toward  her;  for  Lucy,  like  the  rest  of  us,  reveres  Mercy 


A  VICTORIOUS  LITE  873 

Maitland.  They  met  again  at  the  seashore  last  fall,  after 
Mr.  Carnithers's  distressing  death.  Later  Lucy  told  me 
she  had  come  here  to  work,  but  that  she  wouldn't  want  to 
meet  people." 

"Quite  a  mistake,  that,  as  it  happens,"  replied  Grey,  a 
sudden  vision  coming  to  him  of  Bertha's  love  of  adven- 
ture in  human  relations,  not  in  the  vulgar  sense,  but  in 
the  gay,  boy's-story  sense,  for  which  she  would  never  lose 
relish.  "She  is  always  ready  to  meet  people;  ready,  not  in 
the  conventional  sense,  either,  but  from  the  heart.  She 
would  be  delighted  to  have  the  honor  of  your  acquaint- 
ance." 

"I  should  be  greatly  pleased  to  meet  her;  but  there  was 
another  purpose  in  my  mind  when  I  mentioned  her.  A 
capable  woman  who  can  speak  well  is  needed  for  the 
lyceum  courses  next  winter.  It  occurred  to  me  that  one 
who  could  write  with  the  power  and  freshness  she  did 
could  certainly  speak,  unless  she  were  hampered  by  timid- 
ity." 

This  was  half  a  question,  and  in  reply  Grey  threw  back 
his  head  with  a  merry  laugh.  To  associate  Bertha  and 
timidity  was  ludicrous  to  one  who  knew  her. 

"She  would  be  self-possessed  and  have  the  right  word 
at  command  if  she  were  sinking  on  a  ship  afire!"  he  ex- 
claimed, smiling  at  Mr.  Wentworth's  surprise.  "If  you 
could  see  her  once  you  would  understand." 

The  other  man  frowned  a  little:  was  she  bold?  Of 
course  he  would  not  ask,  but  Grey,  quick  of  wit,  saw  his 
suppressed  question. 

"She  is  the  most  wonderful  woman  I  ever  met,"  he  went 
on,  sobering  to  earnestness.  "She  has  a  rare  intelligence, 
and  an  organism  to  match.  She  can  talk  entertainingly 
on  a  thousand  subjects.  Life  has  taught  her  a  great  deal, 


274  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

for  she  learns  with  amazing  speed,  so  that  you  never  feel 
that  you  have  reached  the  end  with  her.  Respond  to  her 
sensuous  claims,  and  you  realize  that  these,  though  very 
prominent,  are  but  the  substructure  of  higher  things.  Meet 
her  intellect,  and  you  encounter  a  depth  of  experience, 
a  knowledge  of  the  tumultuous  beatings  of  the  human 
heart,  which  warms  intellect  with  sympathy,  letting  us 
pent-up  creatures  through'  into  something  quite  beyond 
mere  intellect." 

"H'm,"  said  Wentworth,  stirred  by  such  speech  from 
a  man  of  Grey's  caliber.  He  recognized  here  the  human, 
appreciation  of  another  human  being,  unitary,  synthetic. 
It  struck  a  chord  in  himself  that  was  rarely  made  to  vi- 
brate, and  at  once  lifted  their  rather  formal  relation  to 
higher  and  more  intimate  possibilities.  "H'm,"  he  medi- 
tated, "evidently  a  very  unusual  woman." 

"You  may  well  say  that,"  returned  Grey,  a  bit  shy  after 
his  outburst.  "  She  is  eminently  practical,  too.  She  would 
make  a  great  hit  on  a  platform,  and  she  would  not  object 
in  the  least  to  making  a  hit ;  it  fact,  it  would  delight  her. 
There  you  have  her  as  plainly  as  I  can  give  her  to  you. 
When  you  see  her  you  will  understand.  What  is  it  you 
would  like  to  have  her  talk  about?" 

"Oh,  the  woman  question,"  was  the  matter-of-course 
answer.  "There  is  none  other  of  equal  importance  in  the 
world,  since  it  concerns  not  only  the  half  of  humanity,  but 
the  whole  of  it.  What  either  man  or  woman  does  is  vital 
business  for  the  race." 

"She  would  agree  with  you  there — more  than  agree  with 
you:  she  has  been  a  pioneer  in  that  line.  The  circum- 
stances of  her  life  have  made  her  assert  the  right  of  woman 
to  be,  and  she  has  done  it  magnificently;  you  couldn't  have 
a  better  object-lesson.  And  she  will  have  ideas  that  mean 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  275 

something.  Events  strike  in  with  her,  and  produce 
thoughts;  she  finds  out  the  reason  of  things;  she  is  just 
the  person  for  you." 

"I  should  think  so  indeed.  Will  you  speak  to  her  about 
it?"  Wentworth  was  eager  as  any  leader  is  who  finds 
person  and  place  to  fit. 

"With  pleasure;  only,  I  can't  speak,  I'll  write.  I'm 
going  to  leave  town,  you  know,  as  soon  as  our  business  is 
transacted;  but  I'll  write  her." 

"I'm  sorry  you  are  going  out  of  town;  I  remember  now 
you  said  you  were ;  but  I  was  hoping  you  might  introduce 
me." 

"I'd  like  nothing  better.  When  I  come  back — but  that 
will  be  some  time  yet." 

"I  can  wait ;  or  I  can  get  Lucy,  perhaps,  to  take  me  there 
— if  you  are  quite  sure " 

"Perfectly.    I'l  write  her;  you'll  see." 

The  letter  gratified  Bertha  immensely,  and  her  ripe  lips 
curled  with  pleasure  and  amusement  as  she  read.  Of 
course  she  knew  of  Eossiter  Wentworth,  for  he  was  a  high 
peak  of  personal  worth  rising  from  a  lofty  plateau  of  family 
and  tradition;  it  would  be  fine  to  make  his  acquaintance. 
Moreover,  she  was  delighted  by  the  prospect  of  a  new  under- 
taking. She  had  no  fear  of  failure;  she  know  what  she 
thought,  for  the  woman  question  was  one  on  which  she  had 
very  definite  ideas,  and  she  could  count  on  herself  for 
happy  expression.  Besides,  it  would  be  pleasant  to  have 
a  little  more  money.  She  had  been  pretty  close  to  the 
margin  during  the  winter,  living  more  or  less  easily  on 
the  edge  of  her  resources  because  she  trusted  that  future 
provision  would  arrive  in  time.  But  she  did  not  wait  for 
the  ravens;  she  went  after  them  and  taught  them  to  fetch 
and  carry.  And  if  the  ravens  should  desert  her,  there  were 


276  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

other  birds  of  the  air  and  beasts  of  the  field  at  her  service. 
Moreover,  she  had  strength  to  forego  as  well  as  to  enjoy; 
she  could  be  lavish  or  simple,  but  she  was  never  niggardly, 
and  seldom  economical.  Like  nature,  she  wasted  as  she 
went,  not  considering  it  worth  while  to  apply  intelligence 
to  so  trivial  a  matter  as  expenditure.  But  she  was  an  ex- 
ecutive woman,  knowing  how  to  command,  and  disdaining 
no  honest  toil ;  so  she  met  life  fearless. 

Now  it  was  coming  to  her  with  courteous  mien.  The 
eame  mail  that  brought  Grey's  letter  contained  a  note  from 
Lucy  Wentworth  asking  if  she  might  call,  and  when? 
Bertha  answered  cordially  with  due  observance  of  form. 
This  was  setting  about  the  matter  in  the  right  way. 
She  was  tired  to  death,  as  she  wrote  Agnes,  of  being 
peculiar;  she  wanted  to  be  commonplace  and  like  other 
folk  now.  This,  however,  as  Agnes  pointed  out  in  reply, 
was  the  one  ambition  she  could  never  hope  to  attain,  ex- 
cept on  the  surface;  but  the  surface  was  all  that  conven- 
tionality really  meant:  let  forms  be  observed,  and  the 
wheels  would  roll  smoothly  no  matter  what  they  carried. 
She  had  been  jolted  through  life's  bypaths  long  enough; 
she  wanted  the  broad  highway  now,  the  most  elastic 
springs,  the  softest  cushions;  and,  as  usual,  what  she 
wanted  she  obtained. 

Mies  Wentworth  came  to  see  her  in  a  smart  little 
brougham,  rather  out  of  place  in  front  of  the  Fourteenth 
Street  boarding-house  where  Mrs.  Carruthers  received  her 
in  the  stiff  colorless  parlor  with  a  graciousness  and  ampli- 
tude of  beauty  that  annulled  her  surroundings.  She  was 
the  same  here  as  in  the  elaborate  luxury  of  her  Washing- 
ton house.  Yet  not  the  same.  Lucy  Wentworth's  quiet 
observation  saw  in  this  regal  woman  the  sorrow-stricken  de- 
pendent of  the  seashore;  and  there  was  a  deepening  of 
expression  coming  from  that  experience  which  could  never 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  277 

be  effaced.  But  at  present  she  was  full  of  sparkle  and 
sunny  cheer. 

"How  father  will  like  her!"  thought  the  daughter,  find- 
ing in  this  splendid  presence  the  esthetic  gratification  that 
a  plain  and  unenvious  woman  does  in  the  fairness  of  an- 
other; recognizing  also  courage  and  vigor  of  soul  in  the 
way  she  took  life. 

"Will  you  let  me  call  for  you  to-morrow  and  take  you 
through  the  park  a  little,  and  then  home  for  dinner?"  she 
asked  before  leaving.  "Father  could  not  come  to-day,  but 
he  is  very  eager  to  see  you.  He  stipulated  that  we  should 
have  you  quite  to  ourselves  the  first  time.  After  that,  if 
you  will  permit,  we  can  ask  a  few  friends  to  meet  you." 

"You  are  kindness  itself,"  said  Mrs.  Carruthers  grate- 
fully. "I  shall  do  whatever  you  say." 

"A  large  carte-blanche,"  smiled  Miss  Wentworth.  "Per- 
haps you  will  have  to  withdraw  it,  we  shall  demand  so 
much  of  your  time." 

"A  demand  to  be  honored  in  every  sense,"  returned 
Bertha  with  a  stately  bow,  profound  sincerity  in  her  tone. 

The  next  day  she  met  Mr.  Wentworth  in  his  own  house, 
a  place  of  modest  affluence,  filled  with  objects  of  rare  value, 
discreetly  chosen  to  harmonize  with  their  neighbors.  Mrs. 
Wentworth,  dead  some  ten  years  before,  had  been  an  in- 
expressive woman  whose  house  became  the  medium  of  con- 
tact between  her  and  the  world;  her  taste,  fine  and  sure, 
had  been  given  full  opportunity  by  sufficient  means,  and  the 
result  was  a  harmonious  perfection  that  influenced  power- 
fully whoever  came  within  the  precincts.  She  left  this 
heritage  as  a  thing  of  beauty  to  her  husband  and  their  only 
child;  and  the  daughter  at  least  was  exquisitely  sensitive 
to  every  tint,  every  attitude  of  chair  or  picture;  for  the 
whole  house  was  to  her  the  shrine  of  memory. 

Bertha  felt  the  charm  as  soon  as  she  stepped  within  the 


378  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

circle,  but  she  identified  it  with  this  tall,  dark-haired, 
portly  man,  with  the  kindest  expression  and  wonderful 
eyes,  who  came  forward  to  greet  her.  Never  was  she  more 
aware  of  life  than  when  she  met  his  eyes,  in  which  humor 
and  innocence,  blending  with  fire  and  wisdom,  created  a 
confidence  without  flaw.  On  the  instant  she  adopted  the 
world's  judgment  because  it  coincided  with  her  own  im- 
pression. Never  again  would  she  trust  to  that  alone;  ex- 
perience had  taught  humility;  the  general  opinion  and  her 
own  must  agree,  or  trust  would  wait.  When  they  united, 
as  here,  faith  knew  neither  hindrance  nor  limitation. 

Mr.  Wentworth,  on  his  side,  ratified  General  Grey's 
judgment  at  once;  his  guest  was  beautiful,  she  had  dig- 
nity and  character ;  obviously  she  was  the  very  one  he  would 
have  chosen  as  an  exemplar  of  the  validity  of  woman.  He 
was  proud  to  think  it  would  be  his  part  to  introduce  her  to 
the  lecture-hall,  plainly  her  sphere.  Each  straightway  felt 
at  home  with  the  other,  and  the  daughter  watched  them 
with  quiet  appreciation  as  they  plunged  into  talk  about 
the  cause,  the  way  to  make  toward  it,  and  the  importance 
of  success.  Bertha  was  in  her  most  delightful  vein,  full 
of  enthusiasm,  hope,  assurance.  He  warmed  under  her 
radiance:  what  a  discovery! 

It  had  always  been  one  of  Bertha's  aspirations  to  do  the 
best  thing  in  the  best  way,  and  this  habit  of  mind  made 
her  take  on  now  with  ease  the  signs  of  delicate  breeding 
that  Mr.  and  Miss  Wentworth  diffused  about  them.  She 
felt  that  she  had  entered  a  luminous  atmosphere  where 
light  clung  to  her  own  garments.  In  a  very  short  time, 
so  short  indeed  as  to  be  imperceptible  to  others,  she  be- 
lieved herself  to  be  not  alone  with  them,  but  of  them. 
No  one  stood  higher  in  social  position  than  they,  and  they 
took  pleasure  in  bringing  her  into  contact  with  their  large 
circle  of  friends,  who  in  turn  found  her  most  attractive. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  279 

The  tragedy  which  had  widowed  her,  well  known  as  it  was 
to  this  circle  across  which  Mr.  Carruthers  had  at  one  time 
made  a  meteoric  transit,  formed  the  dark  background  from 
which  her  glowing  figure  started  forth — life  palpable.  Few 
could  resist  the  power  which  she  no  longer  tried  to  exert, 
for  it  had  become  an  accepted  part  of  what  she  was.  She 
went  on  her  way,  and  men  and  women  followed :  she  looked 
behind  sometimes,  noted  the  cortege,  and  smiled.  In  the 
crowd  she  mingled  with  pleasure,  for  she  never  let  it  press 
upon  her  rudely ;  like  a  strong  man  in  authority  she  moved 
easily  through  any  throng,  and  she  was  always  in  authority 
now.  She  led,  not  by  whim,  for  no  one  can  long  lead  thus, 
but  through  conformity;  conforming  to  the  best  with  a 
singular  aptitude  for  expressing  it — a  leader  by  right 
divine. 

Her  appearance  on  the  lecture  platform  was  a  great  suc- 
cess and  traced  her  path  quite  clearly  for  the  nonce.  In 
the  lyceum  courses  that  were  still  largely  patronized  she 
went  about  from  town  to  town,  the  guest  of  the  best  fam- 
ilies, enlivening  thought  and  winning  golden  opinions,  as 
well  as  a  fair  amount  of  paper  money.  She  would  tell 
with  humorous  appreciation  Emerson's  comment  on  "the 
obstructions  and  squalor  of  travel." 

"It  is  tantamount  to  this,"  he  said  on  one  occasion  when 
they  met  in  their  peregrinations — a  starry  occasion  to  her, 
so  great  was  the  reverence  she  felt  for  him — "I'll  bet  you 
fifty  dollars  a  day  for  three  weeks  that  you  will  not  leave 
your  library,  and  wade,  and  freeze,  and  ride,  and  run,  and 
suffer  all  manner  of  indignities,  and  stand  up  for  an  hour 
each  night  reading  in  a  hall.  And  I  answer :  I  bet  I  will. 
I  do  it  and  win  the  money." 

Bertha  bore  shifts  and  discomforts  with  imperturbable 
good  humor,  her  splendid  physique  carrying  her  lightly 
through  what  bogged  other  people.  Then  too  she  had  a 


280 

healthy  scorn  for  one  who  couldn't  endure  whatever  chanced 
to  come  with  an  eye  serene  to  the  end.  When  Mr.  Went- 
worth  happened  to  be  her  traveling  companion,  as  fell  out 
on  several  occasions  while  they  were  bent  on  common  busi- 
ness, he  found  her  comradeship  singularly  congenial.  They 
took  things  with  the  same  easy  good  nature,  smiling  at 
petty  bothers,  or  oblivious  of  them  as  they  rode  hard  on 
the  swift-paced  coursers  of  endless  talk.  Their  enthusiasms 
matched,  their  ideals  held  out  the  same  irresistible  lure, 
life  was  equally  a  revelation  to  them.  They  had  the  buoy- 
ancy, not  alone  of  vital  power,  but  of  unquenchable  faith 
in  succor  for  all,  because  of  that  insight  which  is  aware 
of  the  whole,  seeing  in  every  man  a  common  relationship 
to  the  divine.  It  was  this  that  actuated  Mr.  Wentworth'a 
ardor  in  the  aid  of  whatever  was  good.  By  compulsion 
of  his  nature  he  was  continually  trying  to  bring  his  part  of 
the  world  into  better  identity  with  the  pattern  set  over 
against  it;  vision  through  him  became  reality. 

Amid  the  verbose  discourses  without  pith  or  flower,  de- 
livered from  many  platforms  as  if  they  contained  the  wis- 
dom of  an  oracle,  his  sincere  utterance  rang  true.  He  had 
an  admirably  modulated  voice,  and  when  he  spoke  in  pub- 
lic, his  manner  of  rocking  from  foot  to  foot  a  moment, 
and  then  coming  down  firm  to  present  his  argument  was 
very  winning.  He  always  spoke  without  notes,  and  would 
bend  a  little  forward,  hands  clasped,  chin  well  in,  forehead 
and  penetrating  eyes  brought  to  bear  full  upon  his  audi- 
ence: naturally  he  was  a  convincing  speaker.  Bertha  ad- 
mired him  thoroughly,  both  on  and  off  the  platform,  and 
had  many  opportunities  to  test  her  conviction  that  he  was 
a  good  man.  Experience  had  harshly  taught  her  that  such 
a  person  is  a  rare  original  of  which  there  are  few  copies, 
though  many  counterfeits.  Here  was  no  counterfeit,  how- 
ever. She  would  have  been  disgusted  with  herself  had  she 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  281 

not  by  this  time  learned  discrimination.  Life  does  not 
allow  any  lessons  to  be  shirked,  but  it  promotes  swiftly 
those  who  learn,  and  Bertha  never  dallied  over  her  tasks; 
it  was  on  pleasure  that  she  lingered  long,  extracting  every 
drop  of  honey.  Now  she  appreciated  Mr.  Wentworth  at 
his  true  value,  holding  in  her  mind  these  words  as  expres- 
sive of  him : 

"A  human  heart  knows  naught  of  littleness, 
Suspects  no  man,  compares  with  no  one's  ways ; 
Hath  in  one  hour  most  glorious  length  of  days, 
A  recompense,  a  joy,  a  loveliness; 
Like  eaglet  keen  shoots  into  a2ure  far, 
And  always  dwelling  nigh,  is  the  remotest  star." 

"He  is  wonderfully  like  you,"  she  wrote  to  Mercy  Mait- 
land,  with  whom  she  kept  up  close  connection,  despite  her 
usual  inadvertence  about  letters.  "I  feel  that  he  is  some- 
how the  outer,  masculine,  creative  power,  of  which  you  are 
the  inner,  feminine,  nurturing  grace." 

And  Mercy  read,  and  understood. 

Toward  Christmas  of  the  same  year  Mrs.  Endicott 
brought  Agnes  East  to  do  some  shopping,  the  importance 
of  which,  great  to  the  silver-haired  dame,  was  obliterated 
to  Agnes  (except  as  a  duty)  by  the  thought  of  seeing 
Bertha.  They  had  not  met  for  more  than  a  year,  but  she 
had  heard  from  her  more  regularly  since  the  new  life  be- 
gan, and  from  time  to  time  General  Grey  brought  news. 

"Oh,  yes;  she's  found  her  feet,  found  her  field,"  he  had 
replied  to  Agnes's  anxious  inquiries  the  previous  spring. 
"Let  us  agree  to  realize  she  always  will.  I  saw  an  account 
the  other  day  of  an  asphalt  pavement  in  a  cellar  which 
cracked  and  then  split  open  to  let  forth  a  gigantic  mush- 


282  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

room,  enlarged  and  strengthened  by  its  soft,  triumphant 
combat  with  deadening  circumstances.  Instantly  I  thought 
of  Bertha;  it  was  her  vegetable  prototype,  for  nothing  can 
hold  down  the  life-force  within  her." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Agnes  fervently.  She  was  thinking 
of  this  as  they  waited,  Mrs.  Endicott  tired  and  impatient, 
for  Bertha's  appearance  on  the  platform  of  a  New  York 
hall  where  she  was  to  speak  within  an  hour  of  her  friend's 
arrival  in  town. 

"I'm  dreadfully  sorry  not  to  meet  you,"  she  had  written 
to  Agnes,  "but  come  to  hear  me  speak,  and  then  I'll  take 
you  home  with  me  if  Mrs.  Endicott  will  permit  She  can 
have  you  again  as  early  in  the  morning  as  you  say,  though 
I'd  like  nothing  so  well  as  to  keep  you  near  me  all  the  time 
you  are  in  town.  Of  course  I  shall  go  back  with  you  to 
see  her,  and  then  we  can  arrange  our  plans.  How  delight- 
ful it  is  to  have  you  enter  them  again !" 

A  burst  of  applause  roused  Agnes  from  her  anticipations. 
Mrs.  Carruthers  was  coming  upon  the  stage,  faultlessly 
attired,  superbly  handsome.  It  made  Agnes's  breath  catch 
to  see  the  radiance  of  this  beloved  face  again;  to  watch 
the  quick,  full  eye  searching  for  her  through  the  throng, 
and  to  meet  it  with  a  throb  of  exultance,  as  affection  kissed 
her  across  the  distance  for  a  long  moment,  before  the 
speaker  turned  to  the  business  in  hand. 

Many  minutes  passed,  and  many  words,  while  Agnes 
simply  drank  in  the  cordial  of  Bertha's  presence.  She 
seemed  to  the  younger  woman  one  who  would  never  grow 
old.  Her  complexion  had  regained  its  pink  and  white 
brilliance,  her  auburn  hair  was  piled  in  a  rich  crown  upon 
her  shapely  head,  her  eyes  shone  and  sparkled,  her  whole 
being  was  supremely  alive.  A  thrill  ran  through  Agnes  as 
she  looked.  How  well  she  held  herself!  How  graciously 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  283 

she  moved!  How  dominant  she  was!  And  then — ears 
joining  the  orchestra  of  praise — what  words  she  spoke ! 

A  new  potency  was  here,  for  Bertha  put  the  insight  she 
had  gained  into  her  fluent  speech,  which  gleamed  and  glis- 
tened with  it,  as  the  ripples  of  a  brook  glitter  with  the  sun- 
light. It  had  been  her  delight  always  to  help  others  near 
and  far;  now  she  had  boundless  wealth  to  give.  It  was  of 
a  kind,  also,  that  she  could  take  to  the  market  place  or  to 
heaven  with  equal  propriety.  Many  echoed  the  quaint  old 
saying,  "The  words  she  spoke  meant  more  to  me  than  to  a 
miser  money." 

"A  woman  should  justify  her  existence  as  much  as  a 
man,"  she  was  saying  in  a  voice  whose  minor  tones  had 
sweetened,  and  whose  strident  tones  had  strengthened  to 
richness  since  Agnes  heard  it  last.  "It  is  an  equal  demand 
on  every  human  being.  Not  that  it  is  essential  that  a 
money  equivalent  shall  vouch  for  her  usefulness — what  is 
priceless  can  have  no  pay — but  some  active  reason  for  being 
must  exist.  If  she  chooses  conjugal  happiness  and  children, 
she  is  blessed  among  women. 

"Happiness  is  a  matter  of  choice;  it  can  be  worked  out 
methodically.  The  union  of  equals,  not  domination  by 
either,  is  the  method  of  true  marriage.  The  world 
is  advancing  toward  a  larger  sense  of  freedom  in 
every  relation — freedom  of  each  individual  as  an  end, 
and  all  as  means  to  a  common  end  unattainable  alone.  This 
is  the  only  basis  of  worthy  union  in  the  family  or  body 
politic :  mutual  pursuit  of  an  ideal  which  makes  for  durable 

joy- 

Of  course  love  laughs  at  logic,  but  underneath  its  gar- 
ment of  delight,  as  rocks  beneath  the  flowery  dress  of  sum- 
mer, lie  laws — inviolable  laws.  For  instance,  it  can  never 
be  taken  by  violence,  it  must  ever  be  wooed ;  for  there  is  no 
fatalism  about  love.  It  is  not  the  victim  of  chance  attrac- 


284  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

tion,  as  by  mineral  or  chemical  affinity;  nor  is  it  at  the 
mercy  of  the  wind  of  passion,  nor  dependent  on  the  gush 
of  spontaneous  springs.  These  all  have  their  part  to  play ; 
but  love  may  rather  be  likened  to  a  steady  glow,  a  flame 
that  unweariedly  aspires,  a  fire  that  burns  on  the  hearth 
of  life  so  long  as  fuel  feeds  it — fuel  brought  by  ivilling 
hands.  It  is  the  electric  current,  flashing  magically  in  the 
clouds,  but  also  taught  to  fetch  and  carry,  to  pass  on  in- 
telligence, to  bring  instant  attention,  to  make  life  beautiful 
with  light. 

Continuity  of  will,  which  is  fidelity,  causes  love  to 
be  free  and  fearless.  When  surface-charms  fail,  it  looks 
deeper ;  it  nurtures  what  unites ;  it  weeds  out  what  threat- 
ens to  become  a  hedge ;  it  carefully  tends  the  gardens  where 
beauty  and  fragrance  bloom.  To  maintain  a  living  proc- 
ess, the  more  precious  the  growth,  the  more  essential  is 
a  congenial  atmosphere  and  the  finest  care.  Nothing  is 
ever  done,  all  is  ever  to  be  done,  since  life  is  active,  and 
the  moisture  and  sun  of  yesterday  cannot  be  used  to-day. 
If  the  product  is  to  be  spontaneously  beautiful,  right  con- 
ditions to  call  it  forth  are  indispensable.  'Natural  growth 
is  stunted  growth/  We  must  apply  intelligence  to  nature 
in  order  to  secure  its  best. 

Of  course  both  persons  must  unite  in  this  cultivation,  or 
the  harvest  fails.  The  very  essence  of  love  is  not  inde- 
pendence, but  interdependence.  The  two  can  win  their  end 
only  together ;  they  must  make  themselves  freshly  attractive 
in  perpetuity  through  loving  and  being  lovable.  Then  they 
keep  in  step,  pressing  close ;  disentangling  arms  only  to  let 
eyes  meet  fully ;  going  hand  in  hand,  spirit  in  spirit,  along 
the  road  of  life. 

"But  if  a  woman  denies  herself  the  proper  fruition  of 
life,  then  she  must  make  good  in  some  other  way.  The 
unmarried  woman  of  the  present  is  doing  an  immense 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  885 

amount  of  the  world's  work  that  has  never  been  done  be- 
fore by  anybody.  Witness  Florence  Nightingale  and  Clara 
Barton;  because  of  the  work  these  executive,  organizing 
women  did,  peans  of  praise  rise  to  heaven  from  hospital- 
tent,  and  anxious  homes,  and  pitiful  commanders.  Wit- 
ness the  army  of  teachers  marching  South  to  combat  igno- 
rance and  set  white  ideals  before  the  colored  population. 
Women  have  an  immense  and  increasing  share,  not  only  in 
this  army,  but  in  all  schools  throughout  the  land,  through- 
out the  world;  and  it  is  right  that  they  should.  The 
nurture  of  the  young,  teaching  them  how  to  participate  in 
the  best  known  to  the  wise,  is  woman's  natural  sphere. 
In  the  emulation  between  ideals,  justice  has  been  out- 
stripped by  mercy,  for  the  world's  development  has  reached 
the  stage  where  the  welfare  of  mankind  is  the  supreme  aim ; 
and  this  makes  woman's  place  in  public  life  necessary  and 
logical.  Women  are  half  of  humanity,  remember,  and  un- 
fortunately the  more  ignorant  half.  Lack  of  knowledge 
makes  for  slavery ;  he  who  knows  is  master.  The  fortress 
of  ignorance  is  being  more  closely  invested  perpetually, 
but  it  is  a  gigantic  fortress  still,  and  no  human  being  can 
afford  to  be  faint-hearted  in  the  effort  to  conquer  one  re- 
doubt after  another.  Carry  your  flag  high,  determined  not 
only  to  perish  in  its  defense  if  need  be,  but  to  carry  it  to 
victory.  That's  the  main  point.  Make  up  your  mind  not 
to  die  until  you  succeed  in  what  you  attempt." 

Agnes  listened  in  a  glow  of  exultation.  The  words  were 
shot  home  by  the  force  of  the  speaker's  personality  until 
they  became  living  issues  to  her  hearers.  She  was  like  the 
magnetic  pole  whose  variations  set  every  compass  throb- 
bing; a  dynamo  that  let  no  wheel  stand  unwhirled  while 
in  contact  with  her.  Agnes  felt  the  eagerness  of  attention 
in  all  those  about  her,  the  convergence  of  minds  to  one 
focus.  Bertha  held  her  audience  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand; 


286  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

like  a  bird  free  to  fly,  it  clung  close,  avid  for  the  food  she 
spread  before  it.  So  was  Agnes.  Her  love  for  Bertha  was 
still  intensely  personal,  but  she  no  longer  appropriated  her 
— how  could  she  ever  have  done  so  ?  she  asked  herself,  half 
in  scorn,  half  wistfully.  Under  this  aspect  Bertha  and  her 
actions  became  a  drama  of  breathless  and  pregnant  inter- 
est, an  impersonation  of  a  royal  part ;  every  move  she  made, 
every  cadence  of  her  voice,  thrilled  Agnes  with  a  sense  of 
supreme  satisfaction.  But  as  little  as  the  spectator  claims 
the  actor  did  she  think  of  claiming  Bertha  in  any  exclusive 
sense.  She  simply  loved  her  beyond  all  and  could  have 
watched  her  manifold  charms  forever. 

Others,  less  loving,  were  also  caught  in  the  spell.  "My 
dear,  she's  great,"  said  Mrs.  Endicott  emphatically  as  they 
waited  for  the  crowd  to  disperse.  "Just  see  what  sort  of 
people  these  are  that  hang  on  her  words — the  best  the  city 
affords,  that's  plain.  She's  no  short-skirted,  short-witted 
exponent  of  woman's  rights;  she  has  made  herself  into 
what  every  woman  would  like  to  be:  even  her  tremendous 
ambition  must  be  satisfied.  It's  really  great,  I  tell  you; 
it's  great.  And  to  think  what  she  came  from !" 

"She  came  from  God,"  said  Agnes  in  a  low,  devout  tone 
that  startled  and  silenced  Mrs.  Endicott's  voluble  praises. 

They  had  many  opportunities  to  get  expressed,  however, 
during  the  fortnight  that  followed.  Agnes,  and  Mrs.  Endi- 
cott because  of  her  (for  otherwise  Bertha  would  not  now 
have  selected  her),  were  introduced  into  the  many  circles 
that  made  Mrs.  Carruthers  a  center.  Firmly  established 
on  good  ground,  she  had  troops  of  admirers  and  imitators. 
People  flocked  not  only  to  hear  her,  but  to  know  her.  A 
presentation  was  an  honor  eagerly  sought  by  both  men  and 
women.  Her  reputation  was  radiantly  clear;  yet  she  was 
emphatically  a  woman.  This  fact  declared  itself  in  every 
movement  of  body  and  mind,  and  its  polarity  was  evident 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  28T 

more  or  less  to  each  man  she  met,  a  quality  in  itself  at- 
tractive. Men  sought  her,  fascinated,  enthralled,  giving 
her  masculine  love  in  abundance,  which  still  pleased  her, 
though  she  refused  all  entreaties  to  link  her  orbit  with 
another's.  Like  a  star  whose  powerful  contact  sets  various 
planets  spinning,  yet  she  passed  on  her  way  little  influ- 
enced. 

For  such  a  woman  to  live  in  the  eye  of  the  public  and 
never  make  the  least  mistake  was  superb,  thought  General 
Grey.  When  he  first  heard  her  address  on  Freedom  his 
bosom's  lord  sat  lightly  on  its  throne.  She  had  a  fine  in- 
stinct for  limits,  now  trained  and  purified,  and  the  more  she 
proclaimed  liberty  the  farther  she  got  from  license.  She 
evolved  the  theme  ably  from  its  minute  beginnings  in  plant 
and  animal  life  to  its  magnificent  climax  in  the  soul  of 
man,  potentially  one  with  the  divine.  He  escorted  her  home 
with  a  new  reverence.  She  asked  him  in  and  begged  him 
to  tell  her  frankly  what  he  thought :  she  never  got  beyond 
the  feeling  that  judgment  from  him  was  from  the  highest 
source. 

"My  dear  Bertha!"  he  exclaimed,  standing  before  her, 
strong,  erect,  his  head  a  mass  of  thick  grey  hair,  his  face 
firm  and  genial.  No  surface-learner  of  life  here;  he  knew, 
and  was  sure  of  his  knowledge.  "Everything  you  do  is 
surprising,  and  everything  you  are  is  still  more  so.  I  never 
cease  to  be  amazed  at  what  you  achieve.  Was  there  ever 
such  a  woman?" 

"I  hope  not,"  she  answered,  her  mobile  face  sinking 
from  joy  at  his  words  in  a  sudden  sigh. 

"I  wish  profoundly  that  there  were  many  more  like  you." 

They  were  silent  for  a  while,  thoughts  and  feelings  loom- 
ing large.  He  clasped  his  hands  behind  him,  walking  to 
and  fro  with  his  slight  limp,  while  she  followed  his  figure, 
her  eyes  full  of  speculation 


288  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

After  a  little  he  came  and  sat  opposite  her.  She  was  in 
the  meridian  of  life  now,  of  stately  proportions,  still  very 
fair  and  with  every  line  of  her  face  ennobled  by  the  lofty 
quality  of  mind  and  heart.  It  might  be  more  truly  said 
of  her,  indeed,  than  of  most  that  all  the  charms  of  youth 
were  given  to  make  her  endurable  until  the  beauty  of  char- 
acter had  time  to  develop.  Not  so  much  trailing  clouds 
of  glory  do  we  come,  as  aspiring  toward  the  source  of  glory 
do  we  go,  toward  God  who  is  our  home. 

"I  have  known  you  intimately,  Bertha,"  he  said  at  last, 
in  a  voice  deep  and  vibrant  with  feeling.  "Perhaps  I  know 
you  better  than  any  other  man" — she  nodded  acquiescence 
— "and  I  tell  you  that  if  there  were  more  women  like  you 
in  the  world,  it  would  be  a  better  place,  a  far  lovelier 
country.  I  have  known  men  and  women;  I  have  known 
life  as  it  is,  and,  thank  God,  I  have  known  it  as  it  might 
be:  you  outdo  them  all.  You  have  snatched  victory  from 
defeat  a  hundred  times;  you  have  made  it  a  habit  to  con- 
vert ruin  into  triumph.  I  don't  mean  in  a  worldly  sense, 
though  that  is  sufficiently  astonishing,  but  in  the  unworldly, 
in  your  soul.  My  dear,  you  know  what  my  life  has 
been " 

"The  most  consistently  upright  and  noble  of  any,"  she 
interrupted  with  warm  affection. 

"Yet  I  say  to  you  I  do  not  feel  myself  worthy  more  than 
to  kiss  the  hem  of  your  garment,  so  far  above  me  are  you." 

The  tears  stood  in  their  eyes  as  they  clasped  hands.  The 
solemn  triumph  in  Bertha's  heart  was  near  of  kin  to  pro- 
found humility.  She,  even  she,  was  the  woman  to  whom 
this  man  spoke  these  words — words  that  would  be  her  en- 
couragement throughout  eternity.  For  she  understood  that 
he  did  not  mean  to  undervalue  the  righteousness  his  life 
had  exemplified,  but  to  pay  tribute  to  the  infinite  value 
of  the  spirit  that  aspires. 


CHAPTEE  XXII 

AGNES  took  a  great  liking  to  Mr.  Wentworth  and  his 
daughter,  fitting  into  their  home  as  if  she  had  been  born 
there.  Bertha  was  more  extraneous,  but  it  was  plain  that 
the  balmy  acquaintance  between  the  man  and  woman  was 
moving  gently  on  toward  summer  weather.  It  was  no  sur- 
prise, therefore,  when  shortly  after  Agnes's  return  home 
Bertha  wrote  her  that  Mr.  Wentworth  had  asked  her  to 
marry  him. 

"It  was  done  in  the  courtly  fashion  of  the  old  school, 
the  respectful  way,"  wrote  Bertha.  "I  felt  treated  at  last 
with  due  deference,  felt  myself  saluted  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  service.  I  accepted  him  with  equal  ceremony, 
and  we  are  to  be  married  by  the  full  Episcopal  ritual  at 
my  request.  It  satisfies  me  that  such  should  be  the  end. 
He  was  born  with  a  clear  perception  of  what  truth  and 
right  required,  and  it  has  been  a  necessity  of  his  nature 
to  adjust  his  life  to  those  requirements.  He  has  been  hon- 
orable always,  without  making  it  into  heroics.  That  he 
should  love  me  is  the  marvel.  I  warned  him  from  me  at 
first,  bade  him  not  think  more  of  me;  but  he  smiled  that 
sweet,  enveloping  smile  of  his,  and  my  halting  objections 
vanished  as  dawn-mists  before  the  sun.  I  have  the  ten- 
derest  reverence  for  him,  and  am  very  glad  to  become  his 
wife.  But  little  of  my  history  have  I  brought  to  his  atten- 
tion; he  is  welcome  to  it  all,  but  he  does  not  care  for  it, 
and  I  feel  no  obligation  to  make  a  ghostly  procession  of 

289 


290  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

defaced  and  dead  selves  pass  before  his  mind.  What  I  am 
suffices  him;  he  is  indifferent  to  what  has  produced  the 
result  he  loves,  believing  in  me  wholly ;  so  I  feel  that  I  may 
do  as  the  heavens  have  done,  forget  my  evil,  with  them  for- 
give myself." 

Agnes  agreed  with  her,  though  she  was  quite  certain  she 
could  not  have  done  the  same.  She  was  one  who  preferred 
to  pile  up  the  sweepings  of  life  in  a  conspicuous  heap  rather 
than  to  have  them  hidden  away  in  corners.  Bertha 
was  wont  to  say  of  her,  "In  heaven  I  know  I  shall  find  you 
peering  about  behind  all  the  celestial  furniture  to  see  if 
there  is  a  roll  of  dust  anywhere.  As  for  me,  there  are  other 
occupations  I  prefer  to  that  of  hunting  for  dirt."  Agnes 
would  not  admit  this  was  her  especial  delectation  either; 
simply  she  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  a  secret  stain; 
but  she  recognized  the  question  as  an  individual  matter, 
and  she  admired  Bertha  now  with  no  less  intensity  because 
of  a  larger  toleration. 

Her  own  career  had  settled  into  the  lines  of  what  her 
friend  still  called,  rebukingly,  the  monastic  life;  but  with 
it  Agnes  was  content.  She  had  declined  all  opportunities 
to  marry  until  the  habit  of  mind  thus  indicated  caused 
them  to  cease.  She  became  more  and  more  profoundly 
immersed  in  the  subjective,  not  as  self,  but  as  abnega- 
tion of  self.  Yet  she  did  find  a  need  for  outer  mani- 
festation, and  the  need  made  way  for  itself,  not  only 
in  the  absorbing  duties  developed  at  home  in  her  mother's 
prolonged  invalidism,  but  in  acts  of  spiritual  as  well  as 
material  philanthropy.  During  the  long  silent  hours  that 
life  wrapped  about  her  she  thought  deeply  and  with  rare 
clearness  on  truth  and  its  laws,  and  this  gave  her  words, 
when  they  came,  a  surety  and  calm  that  at  once  arrested 
attention.  People  found  her  one  to  whom  they  could  go 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  29! 

when  they  needed  sympathy  and  advice;  for  from  hidden 
springs  the  water  of  life  welled  up  and  spread  wide,  reflect- 
ing the  perfect  azure. 

She  left  home  very  seldom,  but  she  could  not  fail  to  be 
present  at  the  wedding  the  next  June.  Neither  could  Mrs. 
Endicott,  though  for  different  reasons. 

"I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  the  world!"  she  cried,  waving 
the  engraved  invitation  above  her  head  in  a  twitter  of  ex- 
citement. "That  it  should  come  to  this!"  and  she  gave 
the  paper  an  extra  flaunt.  "The  most  notable  man  in 
America,  rich,  of  the  highest  station,  the  oldest  family, 
marrying  our  Bertha!"  There  was  a  touch  of  cruelty  in 
her  laughter.  "I  could  tell  him  a  thing  or  two,  and  whis- 
per a  word  here  and  there  in  that  society  which But 

I  shan't  do  anything  of  the  sort.  I'm  too  delighted  that 
I  knew  Bertha  for  what  she  really  was  when  I  saw  her  first 
in  sordid  circumstances.  I  launched  her,  and  what  a  voy- 
age she  has  made !  She's  got  her  end  now ;  here's  haven 
and  heaven  for  her,  I  should  think,  at  last  1" 

But  she  mightily  disapproved  of  Agnes's  intention  to 
take  on  to  the  wedding  the  old  folk,  and  their  charge, 
Bertha's  half-sister.  "You're  a  fool  to  do  it,"  she  ex- 
claimed indignantly.  "Why  cast  up  these  old  hulks  before 
the  eyes  of  the  world  when  her  ship  is  coming  in  with  every 
sail  set  and  flags  flying?  It's  a  shame.  She  won't  thank 
you  for  it;  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't.  Let  these  plebeian  people 
sink  into  oblivion  where  they  belong." 

"You  know  I  don't  agree  with  you  about  that,"  was  the 
firm  reply.  "I  shall  take  them  with  me  unless  Bertha 
objects,  and  of  course  she  won't." 

"Are  you  going  to  take  the  mother,  too,  into  the  best 
that  American  society  affords?"  scorned  the  aunt.  "Better 
parade  the  whole  circus  while  you're  about  it." 


292  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  Agnes  quietly;  "she  does  not 
belong." 

The  wedding  day  was  rich  in  sunshine  and  freshness, 
and  the  large  church,  filled  with  flowers,  seemed  all  done 
in  white  and  perfume.  Hundreds  of  Bertha's  friends  were 
present,  and  hundreds  of  Mr.  Wentworth's;  the  building 
was  crowded  with  eager  faces  and  many  whispers  of  the 
envious  could  be  heard.  Every  one  hushed,  however,  as 
the  bridegroom  came  from  the  vestry  preceded  by  chanting 
choristers,  and  the  bride  at  the  same  time  came  in  from 
the  world,  leaning  on  her  guardian's  arm,  to  join  her  spouse 
at  the  altar.  Agnes,  watching  devoutly,  athrob  with  the  sig- 
nificance of  every  detail,  recognized  that  the  immense  value 
Bertha  set  on  ceremony  now  was  because  her  life  had 
lacked  it  so  utterly,  and  she  had  paid  a  great  price  in  ex- 
perience and  suffering  to  acquire  the  right  to  it.  The 
representative  of  God  united  them  in  holy  matrimony,  and 
they  knelt  on  embroidered  cushions  while  the  benediction 
was  given,  and  sweet  music  rose  and  fell  on  the  fragrant 
air.  As  they  rose  and  walked  down  the  aisle,  husband  and 
wife,  in  full  maturity,  co-equal  hearts  and  minds,  they  trod 
with  firm  and  buoyant  step,  their  faces  alight. 

Mercy  Maitland's  sweet  benignity  was  the  first  counte- 
nance Bertha  descried,  and  at  the  sight  she  pressed  close  her 
husband's  arm,  for  she  recognized  that  he  was  a  gift  of 
this  conjugal  spirit  who  had  altered  for  her  the  focus  of 
life,  making  undreamed-of  good  possible. 

Beyond  was  Agnes,  whose  devoted  gaze  she  met  with 
unutterable  speech.  Beside  her  Pa  and  Ma  clung  close,  the 
dear  pair  who  had  nurtured  Bertha's  infancy  and  sheltered 
her  in  sorrow  and  trial.  She  smiled  upon  them  warmly, 
and  their  dim,  awed  eyes  filled  with  the  rare  tears  of  age 
at  her  tenderness.  Mary  too,  her  half-sister,  agape  with 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  293 

wonder,  received  a  kindly  glance  and  a  quick  thought — 
"That  girl  must  be  looked  after." 

In  Eossiter  Wentworth's  beautiful  home,  now  Bertha's, 
friends  were  received  after  the  ceremony,  and  here  for  the 
first  time  Agnes  met  Mrs.  Maitland,  an  event  of  great  in- 
terest to  both.  General  Grey  brought  them  together,  and 
Bertha  was  not  too  engrossed  to  note  the  precious  group 
and  long  to  join  it. 

"It  is  a  wonderful  day  for  all  of  us  who  know  Bertha," 
General  Grey  was  saying.  "What  an  end  to  arrive  at! 
Yet  I  have  said  that,  or  thought  it,  a  dozen  times  in  regard 
to  her,  and  still  she  goes  on.  Will  she  ever  arrive  at  an 
end?" 

"Never;  why  should  she?"  said  Mrs.  Maitland  serenely. 
"Life  lives  right  along;  there  is  no  stopping-place.  Every 
station,  you  know,  is  not  only  a  place  of  arrival,  but  also  a 
point  of  departure." 

"She  is  but  in  the  prime  of  life,"  added  Agnes;  "what- 
ever lies  behind,  everything  lies  before  her.  I  expect  to 
watch  her  progress  with  unflagging  interest  till  my  dying 
day." 

"She  opens  wide  vistas  to  the  mind,"  commented  Mrs. 
Maitland  slowly,  something  of  the  seer's  look  in  her  eyes. 
"She  makes  you  see  the  perfectibility  of  man;  showing 
how  life  disposes  of  every  negative  in  favor  of  a  higher 
affirmation.  Now  at  last  she  is  truly  married:  she  could 
not  be  herself  until  she  had  achieved  this." 

"You  mean "  asked  Agnes,  listening  intently. 

"I  mean  that  here  she  finds  a  man  of  as  wide-spanned  a 
nature  as  her  own,  who  can  be  the  companion  of  her  flights 
as  well  as  of  her  daily  life,  and  through  him  she  gets  what 
she  has  so  long  sought,  the  close,  responsive  love — ardent 
yet  intellectual — of  a  good  man.  It  will  complete  her;  it 


294.  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

will  bring  her  to  see  herself  as  whole,  not  a  half,  which 
is  the  essential  symbolism  of  marriage;  a  symbol  verified 
by  the  unique  fact  of  creation,  for  love  is  both  fruit  and 
seed." 

They  contemplated  Bertha  a  few  moments  in  silence,  as 
she  stood  stately  and  radiant  at  the  doorway. 

"She  takes  what  comes  to  her  with  royal  grace,"  re- 
marked Grey  presently,  "and  she  goes  without,  on  occa- 
sion, almost  as  easily.  That  habit  of  mind  husbands  one's 
forces  to  a  wonderful  degree." 

"Oh,  she  always  wants  plenty  of  things,  and  plenty  of 
people,"  objected  Agnes;  "and  she  gets  them,  too,"  she 
added  with  a  little  inclusive  gesture,  and  a  glance  about 
the  delightful  rooms  thronged  with  friends. 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  she  clings  to  them  stoutly,"  returned 
Grey,  smiling,  "but  to  nothing  does  she  cling  with  such 
tenacity  as  to  her  own  soul.  You  and  I  have  seen  her  hold 
to  it  with  a  grip  that  has  let  it  pull  her  out  of  many  a 
slough  of  despond,  and  up  many  a  hill  of  difficulty.  It 
keeps  one  lively  to  follow  where  she  leads.  Judging  from 
the  past  she  will  still  startle  us,  though  to-day  is  so  serene." 

"I  do  hope  she  won't  undertake  anything  more  of  an 
extraordinary  kind,"  said  Mrs.  Endicott,  insinuating  her- 
self into  this  group  of  the  best,  as  was  her  wont.  "From 
the  first  day  I  met  our  friend — under  very  different  circum- 
stances from  these" — she  interpolated  suggestively,  "I 
saw  that  she  was  somebody  to  help,  and  I  put  myself  out 
to  aid  her  wherever  I  could." 

"She  has  certainly  justified  your  insight,"  commented 
Mrs.  Maitland  in  rather  a  dry  tone.  Mrs.  Endicott,  worldly 
wise,  took  her  cue  from  it  instantly. 

"Oh,  more  than  I  ever  dreamed,  of  course,"  she  said 
with  effusiveness.  "But  now  I  hope  she'll  settle  down  and 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  295 

devote  herself  to  making  that  splendid  husband  she  has 
secured  happy." 

"He  can  hardly  escape  such  a  result  with  her/'  replied 
the  Washington  lady  quietly,  with  an  air  that  made  her 
inches  grow;  and  she  turned  to  join  Pa  and  Ma  and  their 
charge,  softening  for  them  by  her  gentle  manner  the  over- 
whelming brilliance  of  the  hour. 

Later  she  said  to  Grey :  "What  is  going  to  become  of  that 
girl  ?"  indicating  Mary.  "She  ought  to  marry  young.  Those 
dear  old  people  who  have  plucked  one  child  after  another 
from  the  flood  can't  help  in  that  direction  with  her  any 
more  than  they  could  with  Bertha.  She  ought  to  be  saved 
from  her  sister's  hard  fate  by  being  brought  into  com- 
panionship with  men  such  as  she  should  choose  among; 
not  be  left  to  pick  up  flotsam  and  jetsam." 

"You  are  quite  right;  that  never  occurred  to  me  in  re- 
gard to  Bertha ;  but  I  see  new  it  should  have,"  replied  Grey 
slowly.  "  She  might  have  been  spared  much  by  such  simple 
wisdom — a  woman's  wisdom." 

"Perhaps  not,"  answered  Mercy  Maitland,  quick  to 
soothe.  "The  exquisite  balance  between  free  will  in  every 
instant's  decision  and  the  sum  of  all  that  has  gone  before 
may  or  may  not  be  altered  by  what  we  throw  into  the  scale. 
Bertha  is  one  who  had  to  wrestle  with  circumstances  to  win 
character;  and  she  has  done  it  superbly.  From  the  first 
she  had  the  boundless  bounty  of  young  life,  bursting 
asunder  every  bond,  compelling  egress.  I  don't  know  that 
any  improvement  would  have  resulted  from  different  oppor- 
tunities; but  Mary's  way  can  perhaps  be  made  easier." 

As  the  crowd  lessened  Agnes  talked  a  good  deal  with 
Lucy  Wentworth.  She  found  her  strangely  congenial.  At 
this  moment  of  surrender  of  power  she  conducted  affairs 


296  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

with  skill  and  cordiality,  but  Agnes  fancied  her  heart  was 
sad.  She  knew  a  meager  outline  of  her  history:  that  she 
had  loved  and  lost  before  she  was  twenty,  her  lover  dying 
by  an  accident  shortly  before  they  were  to  have  been  mar- 
ried; that  on  top  of  this  shock  had  come  the  brief  illness 
and  death  of  Lucy's  mother,  the  double  grief  throwing  the 
girl  in  on  herself,  but  not  to  morbidness.  Agnes  found  her 
thoroughly  attractive  in  the  quiet  cheer  of  strength. 

Bertha  stepped  forward  eagerly  in  her  new  life  on  the 
level  plateau  at  the  top  of  the  mountains  she  had  found 
so  arduous  in  the  climbing,  and  which  still  towered  around 
her  to  the  skies.  Yet  what  are  the  skies?  Only  the  in- 
finite perspective  of  what  is  this  instant's  breath  to  each 
one  of  us.  On  the  high  level  now  attained  she  was  warmed 
through  and  through  by  the  sunshine  of  society's  approval, 
and  of  a  good  man's  love.  The  supporting  joy  of  recog- 
nition was  hers,  since  she  was  taken  as  valid  at  the  valua- 
tion she  set  on  herself.  Of  course  the  world  pried,  but  it 
got  little  for  its  pains.  She  commanded  society  calmly, 
as  by  unquestioned  right,  and  it  made  way  for  her  com- 
pliantly; not  only  because  of  her  husband's  position,  but 
because  she  knew  of  what  she  was  worthy,  and  claimed  it 
with  no  more  arrogance  than  a  lady  claims  the  right  to 
enter  her  own  drawing-room.  She  delighted  with  a  deep- 
seated  fervor  in  all  her  new  home  gave  her — in  its  safety 
and  assurance ;  in  the  spacious,  bright,  honorable  heart  she 
found  at  its  center,  full  of  sunshine  for  all  human  beings, 
full  of  passionate  love  in  the  inmost  life  for  her  alone.  She 
rejoiced  in  her  husband's  delicate  respect  and  fearless  com- 
panionship. He  was  great  enough  to  comprehend  her,  lov- 
ing her  because  he  trusted  her;  and  she  requited  his  love 
and  trust  in  the  only  way  they  ever  are  requited — by  being 
worthy  of  them. 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  297 

She  gave  up  lecturing  of  course  and  newspaper  work — 
these  were  mere  leaves  the  tree  shed  in  due  season ;  now  she 
was  abundantly  represented  in  such  ways  by  the  masculine 
half  of  her  which  resided  in  Mr.  Wentworth's  broad  breast ; 
but  her  energies  did  not  lapse;  they  turned  into  new 
channels.  Society  in  the  best  sense  was  her  element.  She 
was  fond  of  intercourse,  of  the  hurtle  of  thoughts,  of  life 
in  the  act  of  living.  She  had  always  been  ready  at  give- 
and-take,  more  in  the  deeper  things  than  in  the  superficial. 
No  matter  under  what  heavy  burdens  her  back  might  be 
bent,  she  would  stoop  to  help  to  his  feet  one  who  had 
fallen,  steadying  him  there  before  she  passed  on.  Now  she 
turned  her  attention  to  new  opportunities.  She  was 
among  the  earliest  founders  of  women's  clubs,  leading  and 
pushing  them  forward  with  all  the  force,  the  pioneer  abil- 
ity, of  her  intrepid  determination.  People  who  came  in 
contact  with  her,  vaguely  desirous  of  doing  something, 
somehow,  found  themselves  in  short  order  marshaled,  ar- 
rayed, bannered,  and  ready  to  march,  with  plain  directions 
and  a  ringing  tune  in  their  ears. 

She  had  the  gift  of  divination,  too,  in  regard  to  leaders. 
It  took  insight  to  discover,  for  instance,  that  under  the 
gentle  aspect  of  Lucy  Wentworth's  personality  there  dwelt 
a  liberal  mind,  secure  of  itself  and  clear-sighted  to  an  end. 
It  was  something  of  a  discovery  to  the  young  woman  her- 
self. The  point  was  made  at  a  dinner  where  several  women 
were  gathered  to  talk  over  a  new  club  in  process  of  for- 
mation. 

"The  first  thing  you  must  have  is  an  idea,  then  organi- 
zation and  a  leader,"  said  Bertha  succinctly.  "When  you 
have  found  her,  let  her  lead.  Leadership  is  autocratic;  it 
is  not  made  by  counting  noses.  The  consent  of  the  gov- 
erned must  be  gained,  but  don't  worry  about  your  leader 


298  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

becoming  a  tyrant.  She  will  find  the  way  to  make  all 
work  so  they  can  train  themselves  for  what  she  has  by 
birthright.  There  is  one  who  could  lead/'  she  wound  up, 
nodding  toward  Lucy. 

The  lady  flushed  with  surprise  at  this  sudden  personal 
application  of  wide-glancing  remarks,  and  the  concentra- 
tion of  many  eyes,  and  shook  her  head;  but  a  church 
worker  said  with  a  friendly  look : 

"Very  likely  you  are  right,  Mrs.  Wentworth.  I  know 
something  of  Miss  Wentworth's  capability  by  experience; 
yet  isn't  she  rather  young  to  be  the  head  of  a  club  in  which 
there  would  be  many  older  women  ?" 

"What  has  age  to  do  with  it?"  retorted  Mrs.  Wentworth. 
"Years  neither  confer  nor  detract;  the  power  of  leadership 
lies  in  character.  You  wouldn't  shrink  from  undertaking 
this,  Lucy?  You  have  ideas,  you  know,  plenty  of  them, 
and  executive  ability;  you  would  find  it  just  work  to  your 
hand.  It  is  a  big  interest  to  mold  at  the  beginning  what 
may  be  of  vast  value  hereafter.  Wouldn't  it  please  you  ?" 

"I  should  want  a  great  deal  of  assistance,"  replied  Lucy, 
unconsciously  assuming  the  position  Bertha's  manner 
seemed  to  confer.  Her  father  smiled  with  downcast  eyes, 
then  gave  a  glance  at  his  wife  of  thorough  admiration. 
Bertha  saw  it,  but  did  not  let  her  eyes  or  lips  waver  as  she 
looked  at  Lucy,  who  went  on :  "  Of  course  I  should  shrink 
from  the  responsibility,  but  if  no  one  better  could  be 
found " 

"There  you  are,  ladies!"  cried  Bertha,  rising  from  the 
table  as  the  meal  ended.  Lucy  laughed,  recognizing  how 
deftly  she  had  been  caught.  She  bore  her  stepmother  no 
grudge,  however;  the  surprise  had  brought  her  into  a 
realization  of  her  own  powers. 

Nevertheless,  in  various  ways  Lucy  found  it  a  little  irk- 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  299 

some  to  have  a  stepmother  of  so  masterful  a  character.  It 
wasn't  altogether  easy  to  subordinate  herself  after  the  years 
during  which  she  had  governed  in  her  father's  house. 
Moreover,  she  had  exquisite  sensibilities  and  a  character 
founded  in  fidelity;  it  hurt  her  to  have  any  one  put  in  her 
mother's  place;  it  was  hard  to  see  the  changes  come. 
Bertha  found  it  still  harder  not  to  cause  them;  in  fact, 
though  she  meant  to  be  kindly  about  the  manner,  she  was 
determined  about  the  matter :  the  house  must  lose  its  former 
mistress's  look  and  take  on  hers,  though  of  course  only  by 
degrees;  she  desired  to  offend  no  one.  So  the  completed 
thing  of  beauty  was  subtracted  from,  now  here,  now  there, 
and  things  the  daughter  considered  alien  were  substituted, 
out  of  keeping  with  their  neighbors,  destroying  the  flawless 
unity  of  effect.  She  said  no  word,  however,  and  her  father 
hardly  noticed.  As  piece  by  piece  of  new  furniture  or 
decoration  was  brought  in,  Lucy  claimed  piece  by  piece 
the  old,  withdrawing  it  into  her  own  rooms,  which  became 
darkened  by  these  unsuitable  vestiges  of  a  creation  she 
winced  to  see  dismembered.  Bertha  tried  to  persuade  her 
to  let  them  be  given  away,  or  carried  to  the  garret,  but  was 
always  quietly  denied.  At  length,  a  couple  of  years  after 
her  marriage,  while  Lucy  was  absent  on  a  visit  of  some 
duration — such  visits  were  made  with  increasing  frequency 
— Bertha  took  the  matter  into  her  own  hands.  "Without  a 
hint  of  her  project,  she  sent  "all  this  accumulation  of  rub- 
bish" to  the  auctioneer's;  and,  with  great  pains  and  con- 
stant personal  supervision,  redecorated  and  refurnished  her 
stepdaughter's  rooms,  and  had  them  bright  and  cheerful 
to  greet  Lucy  on  her  return. 

What  the  daughter  felt  is  not  recorded;  what  she  did 
was  to  accept  the  situation.  She  had  a  good  deal  of  her 
father's  large-mindedness.  Her  character,  as  decided  as 


300  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Bertha's,  was  quite  different.  Bertha  went  through  every 
obstacle;  Lucy  withdrew  into  herself,  an  inaccessible  aerie, 
at  the  mere  hint  of  obstruction.  Though  Bertha  exerted 
herself  to  the  utmost,  driven  not  only  by  the  love  of  power 
which  is  stimulated  through  denial,  but  by  the  tenderer 
desire  to  win  love  in  her  own  household,  she  met  here  in- 
destructible resistance.  Lucy  possessed  herself  and  would 
allow  no  one  to  impinge  upon  her  individuality.  She  saw 
the  limitations  of  her  stepmother  more  acutely  than  any 
one ;  she  knew  something  of  what  could  be  looked  for,  and 
in  which  directions  nothing  could  be  expected,  for  limita- 
tions do  limit  inevitably,  she  argued.  She  saw  that  Bertha, 
as  she  called  her — frankly  refusing  her  the  sacred  name  of 
mother — could  not  be  expected  to  know  what  natural  ties 
meant,  nor  how  deep  to  the  changeless  heart  of  things 
pierce  the  clinging  roots  of  family  associations;  she  was 
blank  in  her  ignorance  of  what  these  might  signify.  Lucy 
even  went  so  far  as  to  say  to  her  father, — for  it  was  an 
event  in  the  family  history,  a  jar  that  gave  a  shock  to  all 
concerned : — 

"If  I  had  done  a  thing  like  that,  it  would  simply  have 
damned  me." 

"But  the  action  is  not  the  same  in  her,"  said  Mr.  Went- 
worth,  certain  of  the  fact,  but  with  a  distressed  frown. 

"No,  I  see  it  is  not,"  answered  the  daughter  tolerantly. 
"  She  is  color-blind  in  such  matters ;  she  set  up  the  wrong 
flag  without  knowing  it.  Fortunately  the  accident  caused 
is  not  fatal,"  and  she  smiled  bravely,  though  with  a  certain 
wanness,  at  her  father,  who  took  her  in  his  arms,  kissing 
her  tenderly. 


SEVEN"  years  came  and  went,  and  Bertha's  season  of  fruit- 
age passed  serenely.  Prosperity  sweetened  her,  mellowed 
her,  refining  the  rich  juices  of  her  nature  to  a  delicious 
quality.  Sour  turned  to  sweet,  astringency  to  spice,  tough- 
ness to  tenderness.  The  fruit  of  her  life  was  golden  and 
was  served  in  dishes  of  silver.  It  resembled  the  blossom 
little,  but  if  one  looked  closely  one  could  find  the  petals 
of  the  flower  outlined  at  the  core. 

Mary  married  happily  from  her  sister's  beautiful  home, 
and  their  mother,  content  on  her  husband's  farm,  sent  them 
a  letter  full  of  thanksgiving  for  both.  The  old  folk,  who 
returned  to  the  village  where  Mary  left  them,  were  full  of 
pride  in  their  chief  treasure,  and  sure  now  that  she  would 
need  them  no  more.  It  was  not  long  before  they  died, 
within  a  few  days  of  each  other. 

Bertha  and  her  husband  went  to  see  their  worn  bodies 
laid  reverently  away,  and  afterward  they  walked  and  talked 
long  in  the  woods  haunted  to  Bertha  by  every  memory,  and 
fuller  now  than  in  her  girlhood  with  hope  and  aspiration. 
The  windows  of  the  world  were  thrown  wide,  and  she  looked 
forth  in  every  direction  on  a  boundless  perspective  of  op- 
portunity, and  love,  and  life.  Now  and  forever  she  saw 
to  be  of  the  same  nature,  though  now  is  but  a  dewdrop, 
and  forever  is  the  infinite  sea ;  here  and  hereafter  are  equal 
terms,  for  life  lives:  "death  only  dies." 

Seven  years  she  lived  in  honor  and  tranquillity;  hands 

301 


302  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

filled  with  good  works,  the  mind  with  knowledge,  her  heart 
with  tenderness,  and  her  spirit  with  peace.  Love  and 
friendship  she  cultivated  as  the  supreme  beauty  of  exist- 
ence— that  into  which  utility  blooms — tending  them  with 
a  care  that  gets  amplest  return  only  when  lavished  on  per- 
sonal relations.  The  endless  time  consumed  in  such  at- 
tuning, such  accord  of  soul,  brings  a  deepening  of  per- 
sonality that  is  time's  most  precious  product.  Will  here 
flowers  into  spontaneous  joy,  and  joy  is  life's  ambrosia. 

From  this  clear  sky  fell  the  bolt  of  business  disaster 
through  the  dishonesty  of  people  Mr.  Wentworth  had  too 
generously  aided  with  the  wealth  of  his  good  name.  It 
took  every  cent  he  possessed  to  supply  the  deficit,  and  what 
he  had  given  his  wife  for  her  own  went  into  the  fund. 
Lucy  also  wished  to  add  her  quota,  the  sum  settled  upon 
her  by  her  father  before  he  remarried,  but  this  he  would 
not  permit. 

"Why  not  I,  if  Bertha?"  she  asked,  feeling  held  off. 

"Because  she  has  faced  the  world,  my  child,"  said  her 
father  tenderly,  drawing  her  to  him.  "She  knows  how  to 
meet  and  manage  it,  if  that  should  become  necessary.  You 
do  not,  Lucy.  You  can  do  for  others  endlessly,  as  all  this 
good  work  you  accomplish  shows;  but  you  could  not  readily 
fend  for  yourself.  So  you  must  keep  your  money,  dear. 
The  creditors'  demands  are  met,  and  there  is  no  need  of 
your  sacrifice;  but  I  value  it  as  highly  as  though  you  had 
made  it,  sweet  Lucy." 

"No,  because  you  do  not  accept  it,"  she  replied  in  a  tense 
voice,  standing  like  a  straight,  white  lily  beside  him.  "But 
still  I  can  say  no  more  than  that  it  is  yours  to  do  with  as 
you  will." 

"I  know  it  very  well,  dear,"  he  answered,  looking  up  at 
her  comprehendingly  from  where  he  sat  at  his  high-piled 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  303 

desk.  "To  prove  to  you  that  I  know,  you  shall  defray  our 
expenses  until  I  can  see  what  it  is  best  to  do." 

This  was  all  he  would  accept  from  any  one.  He  re- 
fused the  aid  that  was  pressed,  almost  pushed,  upon  him 
by  his  myriad  friends,  and  settled  down  to  work  out  the 
new  problem.  But  he  was  a  man  well  on  in  years  now 
who  had  lived  up  to  the  margin  of  his  vitality,  so 
that  there  was  no  superfluous  strength  laid  away  for  a 
hibernating  old  age.  The  shock  of  disappointment  in  the 
friends  he  had  trusted,  the  change  in  his  life,  and  the 
efforts  it  necessitated,  developed  before  long  an  organic 
weakness,  and  he  began  to  lose  strength  and  to  lie  on  the 
sofa  whenever  he  was  not  at  work.  As  his  duties  and  re- 
forms slipped  from  his  relaxing  fingers,  his  wife  picked 
them  up  one  by  one  and  carried  them  forward  in  her 
peculiarly  able  way.  Her  life-giving  quality  passed  over 
into  whatever  she  undertook,  and  he  came  to  look  upon  her 
as  an  unfathomable  well  of  strength. 

Lucy's  admiration  for  her  stepmother's  large  quality  of 
courage  and  character  grew  apace  these  days,  but  she  still 
held  herself  aloof.  Long  since  Bertha  had  desisted  in  her 
effort  to  win  her;  what  she  could  not  command,  she  did 
not  demand,  obviously  it  did  not  belong  to  her;  so  the  two 
women  lived  amicably  together,  but  between  them  a  dis- 
tance lay. 

One  morning  Bertha  was  sitting  beside  the  couch,  where 
Wentworth  lay  now  most  of  the  time,  talking  in  her  loftiest 
and  tenderest  vein.  At  such  times  she  seemed  almost  in- 
spired; indeed,  she  was  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  her  ex- 
perience risen  from  its  grave  clothes,  eager  to  help. 

"You  should  be  a  preacher,  dear,"  said  her  husband, 
looking  appreciatively  at  the  firm  mouth  into  which  the 


304  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

sensuous  lips  had  been  chiseled  and  at  the  eyes  filled  with 
an  earnest  glory.  "I'm  sure  you  have  preached  better  ser- 
mons to  me  than  any  I  have  heard  elsewhere,"  he  added 
in  answer  to  the  startled  expression  that  came  upon  her 
face. 

"Ah,  you  know  it  is  the  prerogative  of  a  wife  to  lecture 
her  husband,"  she  returned  with  a  smile;  "but  it  would 
hardly  do  from  the  pulpit." 

"Why  not?"  he  questioned  seriously.  "I  believe  it  would 
answer  your  craving  to  help  better  than  anything  else.  It 
has  often  seemed  to  me  that  the  ministry  is  the  vocation 
most  suitable  to  women.  It  needs  love  above  all  else,  and 
the  persuasive  faculty.  Good  must  be  made  attractive,  and 
that  is  a  peculiarly  feminine  problem.  At  the  bedside  of 
the  sick  no  one  can  be  more  suitable  than  a  woman  to  speak 
consoling  words,  and  to  teach  the  patience  which  is  her 
life-habit.  To  the  dying,  who  can  make  the  life  of  the 
spirit  so  clear  as  she? — as  you  have  to  me,  beloved. 
Among  the  poor — why,  the  minister  now  gets  the  women 
to  do  most  of  the  work  there,  like  my  sweet  daughter. 
Think  of  it,  dear;  it  will  occupy  you  when  I  am  gone. 
You  seem  to  me  wonderfully  well  fitted  for  the  place :  you 
have  a  genius  for  expression ;  you  have  had  much  practice 
in  speaking  to  audiences;  you  have  a  clear  perception  of 
truth,  and  a  great  love  for  humanity.  It  would  be  easy 
for  you  to  master  the  studies  necessary.  Speak  to  Dr. 
Skidder  about  it,  or  I  will;  he  is  a  capable  man,  and  he 
appreciates  you.  Many  a  time  you  have  said  women  might 
enter  any  profession  for  which  they  could  fit  themselves; 
why  not  give  an  example  to  the  world?  Of  course,  prej- 
udice will  be  against  ycru,  but  that  needn't  matter.  You 
have  learned  long  since  to  triumph  over  that." 

He  paused,  but  she  sat  silent.    Her  genius  for  expression 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  805 

was  struck  dumb  by  this  wonderful  thought.  Could  it  be 
that  such  a  suggestion  was  made  to  her — to  her,  and  by 
one  who  knew  her  with  the  utmost  intimacy?  Yet  why 
not?  Who  could  teach  better  than  she  who  had  been  over 
every  step  of  the  arduous  way,  she  who  knew  where  the 
bogs  were  that  must  be  avoided,  and  how  best  to  climb  the 
hills?  Who  could  testify  more  clearly  than  one  who  had 
set  her  seal  to  the  truth  that  God  is  true,  and  could  give 
adequate  reasons  for  the  faith  that  was  in  her? 

She  rose,  and  began  pacing  up  and  down  with  her  long, 
free  step.  Her  husband's  words  had  rolled  back  a  curtain 
from  her  mind.  She  saw  the  wide  landscape  bathed  in  a 
golden  light ;  she  saw  the  glancing  play  of  its  holy  waters ; 
she  heard  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  on  the  tree  of  life.  She 
saw  herself  passing  along  the  highways  and  byways,  helping 
some  to  their  feet,  carrying  this  fragile  one  in  her  bosom, 
leading  by  the  hand  that  strong  soul  blinded  by  many 
thorns.  She  saw  more  than  individuals ;  she  saw  the  masses 
struggling  like  sheep  one  over  another,  falling  headlong  in 
their  eagerness  to  get  on,  not  knowing  whither;  she  saw 
herself  at  their  head,  conducting  them — directing  them — 
She  heard  a  voice  crying  in  her  ears,  "The  fields  are  al- 
ready white  unto  harvest,  but  the  laborers  are  few;  go  you 
in."  It  was  like  a  revelation  to  her,  this  suggestion  that 
made  every  divergent  path  of  her  varied  life  converge  here, 
here  find  its  reason  for  being,  its  guiding  over-soul.  The 
riddle  of  her  life  was  answered;  the  Sphinx's  dumb  lips 
moved  and  spoke  the  solvent  words :  Live  and  give. 

She  fell  on  her  knees  beside  her  husband,  laying  her 
head  upon  his  breast,  the  rare  tears  raining  over  her  cheeks. 
He  held  her  close  awhile  in  silence,  and  when  at  length 
he  asked  what  was  the  matter,  she  could  only  say: 


306  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

"I  am  so  happy,  so  blessed.  Let  me  cry  a  little;  you  are 
so  very  good  to  me,  beloved." 

The  next  day  he  called  Dr.  Skidder  to  him  and  spoke  of 
what  he  hoped  for  Bertha.  The  doctor  was  a  Congrega/- 
tional  minister  of  great  ability  and  breadth  of  ideas,  the 
pastor  of  a  large  and  intelligent  flock  which  flourished 
under  his  care  that  helped  their  lives  to  expand  without 
let  or  hindrance,  yet  in  the  order  of  harmony.  Mr.  Went- 
worth  had  been  one  of  his  strongest  upholders,  and  now  the 
doctor  listened  with  much  hospitality  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing to  the  plan  proposed. 

"It  is  the  best  sort  of  an  idea,"  he  averred  enthusiastic- 
ally. "You  and  I  know  what  fine  service  she  can  render, 
and  it  is  eminently  fitting  that  it  should  be  consecrated  to 
the  highest  cause.  To  exclude  her  because  of  her  sex  from 
the  profession  whose  business  it  is  to  bring  God  and  man 
together  would  seem  much  like  agreeing  with  the  obsolete 
notion  of  the  Mohammedans  that  women  have  no  souls. 
In  God  is  no  question  of  sex,  neither  should  there  be  in  his 
service.  A  wise  man  said,  'Woman's  humanity  is  the  gen- 
eral fact  to  be  recognized,  her  womanhood  is  the  special 
fact  out  of  which  grow  her  personal  relations.  When  these 
principles  are  recognized,  sex  will  be  relegated  to  the  priv- 
acy where  it  belongs/  " 

"Capital!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Wentworth,  a  smile  broaden- 
ing his  thin  face. 

"The  distinction  of  sex  has  no  place  in  mind,"  went  on 
the  doctor  learnedly.  "A  problem  in  geometry  is  neither 
masculine  nor  feminine;  the  facts  of  history,  the  data  of 
science,  cannot  be  regarded  from  a  male  or  female  stand- 
point; there  is  but  one  for  anything  mental,  and  that  is 
the  standpoint  of  truth.  When  Paul  excluded  women  from 
public  exercises  he  held  to  Jewish  ideas  that  were  passing 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  SOTf! 

away;  the  Christian  thought  rises  above  that  duality  to  a 
higher  unity.  God  is  spirit,  and  those  who  worship  must 
worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  This,  perhaps  the  highest 
statement  in  the  gospels,  was  made  not  only  to  one  of  the 
despised  sex,  but  to  a  woman  of  a  despised  nation,  and 
one  who,  according  to  ordinary  human  judgment,  was  of 
despicable  character.  Yet  Christ  pierced  through  the  shells 
of  appearance  in  every  one  of  its  guises  to  the  kernel  of  the 
mind,  and  gave  her  the  whole  truth,  without  hesitation  or 
explanation.  She  received  it  in  the  same  spirit,  without 
apology,  though  with  awe,  and  instantly  acted  upon  it. 
That  is  all  God  asks.  It  isn't  a  question  of  sex — that  is 
so  petty  it  is  forgotten;  it  is  merely  a  question  of  having 
ears  that  hear." 

Not  long  after  this  Mr.  Wentworth  died.  It  was  a  case 
of  heart  failure  at  the  last,  and  the  end  came  with  merciful 
celerity.  He  told  Lucy  before  Bertha  that  she  must  not 
trammel  herself  in  any  way  by  the  legacies  he  left,  and 
she  understood  him.  Nevertheless  she  insisted  afterward 
on  giving  a  small  sum  to  her  father's  wife  which  could 
defray  her  expenses  while  she  was  establishing  herself  other- 
wise; she  asked  her  to  speak  if  ever  she  were  in  need, 
and  then  their  paths  separated.  Bertha  was  left  once  more 
to  face  the  world  alone. 

But  she  did  not  feel  herself  alone.  The  you-and-I  of 
it,  that  in  which  two  are  distinct  yet  identified,  held  her 
and  her  mate  together;  not  in  the  same  way  as  when  he 
was  on  earth,  but  essentially.  She  was  so  wholly  vital,  as 
in  body  so  in  soul,  that  life  convinced  her  of  its  perpetuity ; 
the  dream  that  it  could  cease  as  a  candle  is  snuffed  out 
had  long  since  vanished  with  the  night.  Time  and  space 


308  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

she  saw  to  be  the  transient  theater  of  life,  for  she  realized 
that,  whether  on  or  off  the  stage,  personality  abides. 

"Do  you  suppose  she  will  marry  again,"  asked  Evelyn 
of  her  mother  when  they  heard  of  Mr.  Wentworth's  death, 
"or  has  she  passed  the  age  for  that?" 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  age,"  answered  Mercy  Maitland 
with  deliberate  assurance.  "Many  women  older  than  she 
have  married,  many  more  have  wished  to  marry;  she  will 
do  neither." 

"How  can  you  be  so  sure  when  she  married  twice  be- 
fore?" 

"Because  I  know  her  character,"  was  the  calm  reply. 
"In  Mr.  Wentworth  she  found  her  long-sought  ideal  of  a 
good  man,  and  he  set  before  her  in  daily  detail  the  beauty 
of  a  noble  life  faithfully  lived.  They  were  united  long 
enough  to  become  thoroughly  at  one;  as  an  individual, 
therefore,  she  is  complete,  once  and  for  all ;  hence  any  idea 
of  marriage — that  seeking  of  a  part  for  the  whole — is  tran- 
scended, and  naturally  lapses  into  desuetude." 

"I  wish  I  could  know  as  you  do,  mother.  I  can't  recall 
one  of  your  prophecies  about  people  that  didn't  turn  out 
right." 

"There's  no  magic  in  it,  dear.  Observation  and  interest 
have  taught  me  what  to  expect  of  different  persons.  It  is 
a  very  simple  process  and  it  simplifies  life;  I  find  it  well 
worth  cultivating." 

Bertha  threw  herself  into  the  work  of  mastering  theology 
under  Dr.  Skidder's  able  guidance  with  the  same  ardor  she 
had  used  to  attack  previous  problems,  and  with  wisdom 
vastly  increased.  Eventually  she  summed  up  her  creed  in 
the  one  phrase:  Personality  human  and  divine,  inclusive, 
as  it  is,  of  the  perfectibility  of  man. 

"The  working  out  of  practice  on  this  basis,"  she  said, 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  309 

reviewing  her  convictions  to  him,  "makes  clear  that, 
inasmuch  as  man  is  not  shut  out  either  of  hell  or 
heaven  by  divine  decree,  neither  should  his  fellows  strive 
to  close  either  door,  which  may  be  equally  the  entrance  into 
life  for  that  soul.  Hence  toleration  in  action  and  opinion 
should  prevail;  no  dogmatism,  but  clear  formulation  of 
truth  so  far  as  seen,  and  the  most  attractive  possible  per- 
suasion to  its  acceptance;  no  final  judgment,  but  recogni- 
tion of  endless  opportunity,  while  keeping  firm  hold  on 
ethics  as  the  laws  of  freedom;  no  dictation  in  any  shape 
to  another  adult  soul  (except  by  due  process  of  law),  but 
perennial  aid  by  way  of  insight  and  example;  creation,  in 
short,  of  an  atmosphere  in  which  love  of  the  best  can  grow. 
Men  must  learn  to  think  what  is  true  and  to  do  what  is 
right,  since  thus  alone  can  they  'be  good  together/  attain- 
ing to  the  full  stature  of  a  man,  which  is  that  of  an  angel. 

"Moreover,  our  ambition  to  be  perfect  must  embrace  the 
race  in  the  active  desire  that  all  may  be  perfect,  before 
the  consummation  can  be  reached.  The  laws  of  the  uni- 
verse make  manifest  that  only  through  serving  others  can 
we  serve  ourselves;  only  through  the  practical  realization 
of  the  unity  of  man  do  we  become  men.  This  is  what 
family  life,  mercantile  life,  national  life,  cosmic  life,  all 
mean:  each  individual  puts  his  mite  into  the  treasury  of 
God,  and  as  interest  he  gets  in  return  the  whole. 

"That  past  sin  should  exclude  one  from  this  illimitable 
heritage  is  unthinkable ;  indeed,  the  suggestion  seems  to  me 
blasphemous,  a  slur  on  the  nature  of  the  divine.  The  one 
narrow  path  leading  direct  to  God  is  to  abandon  whatever 
is  seen  to  be  wrong  or  false ;  there  is  no  other  path,  and  no 
other  end  to  this.  Glory  shines  down  this  pathway,  illumi- 
nating at  the  very  farthest  end  whoever  strives.  He  sees 
the  effulgence  the  instant  he  turns  into  the  way,  and  it 


310  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

makes  clear  that  the  joy  of  life,  no  less  than  the  duty  of 
him  who  would  attain,  is  fidelity — fidelity  to  the  best  that 
is  seen.  Then  the  glory  that  surpasseth  grows  more  and 
more  glorious  as  he  advances,  emerging  into  the  perfect 
day." 

The  hour  of  ordination  was  the  most  solemn  and  the 
most  joyful  of  her  life.  Robed  in  stainless  white,  with  the 
sunlight  like  a  loving  hand  upon  her  splendid  crown  of 
hair,  now  glinting  with  silver;  her  face  chastened,  exalted, 
Bertha  Wentworth  knelt  to  receive  communion  as  a  priest 
of  God.  She  gloried  in  the  moment  as  excellent  beyond 
compare;  not  for  herself — that  speck  vanished  in  transcen- 
dent light;  nor  even  for  womanhood — though  she  was 
aware  that  in  her  it  received  supreme  recognition;  it  was 
for  humanity,  forgiven  all  its  shortcomings,  joyous  with 
eternal  rejoicing  as  the  child  of  God. 

A  few  of  her  most  intimate  friends  alone  were  present. 
General  Grey  and  Agnes  and  Mrs.  Maitland  sat  side  by 
side,  reviewing  in  the  splendor  of  this  moment  all  they 
knew  of  Bertha.  They  were  uplifted  with  the  one  they 
loved;  they  felt  that  all  men  were.  The  silence  of  that 
kneeling  form  with  face  upheld  to  God  was  eloquent  of  the 
surety  that  may  encourage  any  one  who  desires  heaven. 
It  is  always  within  his  reach;  he  has  but  to  pursue  the 
right  way  and  he  comes  into  his  own. 

Mrs.  Endicott  sat  behind  them,  very  still.  She  had  not 
been  so  always. 

"This  is  too  much!"  she  cried  indignantly  when  she 
heard  of  Bertha's  intention  to  be  ordained.  "I  can  stand 
most  things,  but  this  goes  beyond  me.  Why,  that  woman 

is  no  more  fit  to  be  a  minister Preposterous !  Such 

a  thing  was  never  heard  of.  No  church  that  is  a  real 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  511 

church  would  ever  permit  it,  in  all  the  ages  of  the  world.  I 
shall  make  it  my  business  to  see  Dr.  Skidder  and  tell  the 
dear  old  man  what  I  know,  and  furthermore  what  I  suspect. 
He  can't  have  the  least  notion  of  what  she's  been  through." 

"Whatever  she  may  have  been  through,"  said  Agnes,  to 
whom  this  was  reeled  off  by  her  white-haired  aunt  under 
pressure  of  high  excitement,  "she  has  come  out  of  it  into 
the  light.  Her  husband  said  in  dying  that  she  had  been 
to  him  a  revelation  of  goodness.  Isn't  that  sufficient?" 

"Oh,  her  husband!  Which  one?"  sneered  the  worldly 
woman.  "Mr.  Wentworth  probably  never  knew  any  more 
than  Dr.  Skidder  knows  what  she  was.  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing at  her  wedding — it's  a  woman's  right  to  make  the 
best  marriage  she  can — but  now  I  shan't  keep  silent;  this 
is  going  too  far.  Her  arrogant  ambition  must  be  made  to 
halt.  It  would  be  sacreligious  to  let  her  become  a  min- 
ister !"  The  tone  of  scorn  and  disgust  in  which  she  spoke 
would  have  been  funny,  had  the  situation  not  been  so 
serious. 

Unable  to  dissuade  her  from  going  East  with  venomous 
intent,  Agnes  warned  Mrs.  Maitland,  who  went  at  once  to 
New  York,  making  herself  known  to  Mrs.  Endicott  almost 
immediately  upon  her  arrival.  The  descendant  of  the 
Puritans  and  of  the  Quakers  met  and  Mercy  prevailed.  The 
artillery  of  scorn  and  contumely,  forged  by  the  instinct  to 
shatter  what  towers  high  and  reinforced  by  the  sense  of 
setting  up  a  bulwark  to  defend  righteousness,  was  effectu- 
ally spiked.  Mrs.  Maitland  rendered  plain  to  the  lesser 
woman  that  she  would  be  wise  not  to  interfere;  she  would 
gain  nothing,  for  Mrs.  Maitland  was  aware  of  Dr.  Skid- 
der's  breadth  and  charity  of  vision;  she  would  lose  much 
— much  she  would  be  sorry  to  lose.  Thus  having  met  the 
worldly  point  of  view  on  its  own  ground,  she  stepped  to 


812  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

Mrs.  Endicott's  side  as  a  sister,  persuading  her  that,  once 
seeing  straight,  she  really  did  not  wish  to  obstruct. 

"We  have  had  an  immense  privilege  in  knowing  such  a 
woman,"  said  Mrs.  Maitland  in  the  course  of  the  inter- 
view. "You  discerned  the  remarkable  in  her  very  early, 
and  it  has  grown  more  and  more  remarkable  as  her  devel- 
opment proceeds.  What  many  have  longed  to  see,  we  wit- 
ness. I  think  of  her  sometimes  as  Michel  Angelo  hewing 
with  great  blows  his  statue  from  the  solid  block.  The 
sculptor  doesn't  discover  his  figure  wrapped  up  in  the 
marble,  with  a  stain  here,  and  a  flaw  there;  he  sees  his 
Dawn  or  Twilight  perfect  in  his  mind,  and  then  tries  to 
wrest  the  rock  into  conformity  with  his  vision.  He  can 
work  only  with  the  material  he  has,  and  with  the  limited 
knowledge  he  has  acquired,  so  there  are  defects  and  blun- 
ders to  mar  the  image  he  would  reveal;  but  these  do  not 
destroy  the  idea,  which  gets  itself  expressed  finally,  in 
more  or  less  clumsy  fashion — a  hint  merely  of  what  was 
his  ideal — and  the  world  sees,  blaming  or  praising  accord- 
ing to  its  power  of  perception.  At  all  events,  it  is  God's 
strength  that  she  wields  while  she  swings  the  chisel:  let  us 
give  him  the  glory,  and  pass  on." 


IMMEDIATELY  after  her  ordination  Bertha  went  to  a 
parish  that  had  called  her  and  which  was  eagerly  awaiting 
her  advent.  Many  of  the  people  she  knew  personally,  and 
they  rejoiced  to  have  her  among  them  and  she  rejoiced  to 
be  there.  Here  the  last  wonderful  phase  of  her  life  began ; 
humbly,  for  it  was  a  small  parish,  not  rich  in  the  things 
of  this  world;  peacefully,  irradiated  with  joy. 

How  she  did  minister  unto  her  people !  She  threw  her- 
self heart  and  soul  into  the  work  in  every  detail.  When 
she  first  took  charge,  the  society  was  weighed  down 
with  a  sense  of  poverty  and  acquiescence  in  the  fact;  she 
preached  against  this  spirit,  and  acted  against  it;  she  in- 
fused the  members  with  vigorous  life  so  that  matters  im- 
proved by  leaps  and  bounds.  In  a  short  time  the  poor, 
bare  edifice  they  had  been  willing  to  let  so  remain  was  con- 
verted into  a  comfortable,  attractive  church.  "Put  all 
your  money  there,"  she  said.  "Don't  try  to  beautify  the 
parsonage;  my  needs  beyond  simple  necessities  can  wait. 
Concentrate  beauty  where  all  can  share  it." 

The  congregation  grew  in  numbers  with  surprising 
speed.  She  went  along  the  streets  and  alleys  of  the  town, 
in  no  blatant  fashion,  but  effectively,  calling  the  people  by 
name,  and  they  gave  heed.  Some  came  for  disingenuous 
reasons,  perhaps,  but  once  having  heard  her — having  come 
under  her  influence — they  continued  to  follow,  fired  with 
zeal.  She  set  before  them  convincingly  what  could  trans- 

313 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

form  their  lives  from  spiritual  poverty  to  the  inheritance 
of  earth  and  skies,  rousing  in  them  a  desire  for  it  beyond 
any  other  wealth.  All  was  theirs,  of  course;  she  simply 
showed  them  how  to  take  possession,  a  never-ending  task 
and  joy,  since  before  they  had  been  ragged  and  idle — "the 
idle  soul  shall  suffer  hunger" — whereas  now  they  were 
clothed  in  rich  robes  and  surrounded  by  the  plenteous 
fruits  of  activity.  At  times  she  wished  she  had  a  whole 
city  to  draw  from  instead  of  a  little  town,  but  she  quickly 
silenced  such  murmurings  by  the  thought  that  here  as  well 
as  anywhere  she  could  work  with  all  her  might,  and  the 
reward  would  be  sure. 

"The  last  year  has  been  surely  the  best  and  happiest  of 
my  life,"  she  wrote  Agnes  on  the  first  anniversary  of  her 
ordination.  *'It  seems  almost  incredible  that  such  a  year 
could  have  been  mine :  a  year  of  congenial  work,  of  generous 
appreciation,  of  sufficient  success,  and  of  deep  peace." 

During  the  second  year  of  her  ministry  General  Grey 
called  her  to  him  by  telegram,  for  he  was  dying.  She  went 
at  once,  her  heart  full  of  wistfulness,  yet  of  content:  he 
had  earned  promotion.  She  found  him  slowly  failing 
under  the  effects  of  a  stroke  of  paralysis  which  left  his  mind 
clear  and  speech  unaffected.  Independent  as  he  had  al- 
ways been,  and  alone  as  he  was,  he  looked  upon  his  inca- 
pacity as  durance  vile;  and,  although  she  tried  to  be 
courageous  for  his  sake,  she  could  not  forbear  agreeing 
with  him.  She  had  suffered  very  little  physical  pain  or 
disability  and  hardly  knew  what  it  meant,  so  she  felt  the 
dismay  that  is  apt  to  come  with  the  habit  of  strength, 
imagining  the  deprivation  of  it  would  be  the  greatest 
calamity.  "When  my  time  comes,  I  do  hope  I  shan't  be 
long  about  it,"  she  thought.  Meanwhile  she  exerted  herself 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  315 

to  the  utmost  to  ease  his  path,  giving  of  her  life-force, 
physical  and  spiritual,  without  stint. 

Grey's  thoughts  turned  from  this  world,  where  the  deed 
was  accomplished,  almost  wholly  to  the  next  phase.  Often 
he  lost  himself  in  dreams  of  meeting  anew  his  long-loved 
wife.  Would  she  have  gone  too  far  ahead  to  turn  back 
to  him? 

"Nay,  there  needs  no  turning  back,"  said  Bertha  gently. 
"Love  is  the  power  that  unites;  sympathy  is  the  spiritual 
law  of  gravitation,  drawing  together  those  who  love;  and 
when  did  love  ever  turn  its  back  upon  its  object?  Not 
even  God  does  so  with  the  pettiest  human  soul.  Consider 
also  how  much  further  two  can  go  than  one  alone.  It  is 
a  tremendous  fact,  one  that  encompasses  life  itself,  for  it 
is  the  basis  of  life  and  also  its  highest  crown.  It  has 
divine  authority,  since  to  life  together  only  does  the  power 
of  creation  come.  Love  gives  and  love  takes;  each  is  es- 
sential to  perfection ;  then  every  stroke  of  one  wing  is  com- 
plemented by  that  of  the  other;  and  the  whole  soars." 

Thus  she  buoyed  him  in  strong  arms,  as  he  had  so  often 
upheld  her.  Immediately  upon  his  death  she  returned  to 
her  parish,  which  felt  that  it  could  hardly  exist  without 
her.  But  she  was  tired,  tired  all  through;  weary  body  and 
spirit.  The  strain  on  her  sympathy,  so  active  and  deep, 
had  been  too  much  for  her,  they  said.  She  repudiated  the 
thought:  it  was  a  touch  of  spring  fever;  it  would  pass  away 
if  ignored;  what  nonsense  for  her  to  be  so  tired!  She 
spared  herself  not  the  least,  but  worked  harder  than  ever, 
as  there  was  much  sickness  in  the  parish,  and  her  presence 
was  more  eagerly  waited  for  than  health.  But  the  little 
cloud  on  the  horizon  grew,  though  at  first  it  cast  only  a 
grateful  shade,  at  least  to  some  of  her  people.  The  strain 
of  keeping  pace  with  her  indomitable  energy  and  ceaseless 


316  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

work  lessened  little  by  little  as  her  strength  failed.  At  the 
same  time  a  loftier  spirituality,  a  deeper  significance,  was 
imparted  to  her  words.  The  vigor  that  had  distinguished 
her  always  now  turned  within,  owing  to  the  lessening 
vitality  that  robbed  her  body,  but  left  her  spirit  free  to  seek 
the  deep  things  of  God.  She  sought  and  she  found  them. 
As  month  by  month  passed,  her  fair  face  grew  thin,  her 
full  form  became  meager;  her  firm  hand  lost  its  steadiness 
as  she  baptized  infants,  or  united  couples  in  matrimony, 
or  said  hopeful  words  over  the  dead,  or  administered 
the  holy  cup  of  communion  between  heaven  and  earth; 
but  her  soul  rose  higher  and  higher.  The  words  she  spoke 
gained  a  wonderful  clearness  and  beauty ;  her  voice  vibrated 
with  compassion  and  exhortation;  her  eyes  shone  from  the 
pulpit  like  enlarging  stars. 

The  people  were  absolutely  devoted  to  her;  they  saw 
with  fear  and  trembling  her  loss  of  hold  on  physical  life, 
and  when  the  day  came  that  she  fell  on  the  highway  in  a 
dead  faint,  simply  spent  in  the  service  of  others,  they  in- 
sisted on  calling  the  best  physicians  to  her  assistance.  She 
acquiesced;  she  had  fought  as  long  as  she  could;  she  sub- 
mitted to  their  examination,  and  saw  in  their  inscrutable 
faces  doom :  she  little  knew  to  what. 

They  said  she  must  go  away  and  rest  absolutely  for  a 
time,  and  some  of  her  parishioners  escorted  her  tenderly  to 
the  "cure"  that  had  been  recommended.  Her  heart  was 
heavy  in  being  thus  checked  in  mid-career.  Like  Faust 
she  had  arrived  at  the  moment  she  would  fain  delay  be- 
cause it  contained  the  largest  possibilities.  In  fact,  the 
moment  was  eternalized,  since  she  had  learned  here  and 
now  the  method  of  eternity,  which  is  to  live  through  others, 
thus  living  to  the  largest  one's  own  life.  What  would  her 
parish  that  she  loved  so  dearly  do  without  her?  It  would 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  317; 

wait  for  her  return,  the  people  said.  It  did,  with  singular 
loyalty.  It  defrayed  all  her  expenses ;  it  gave  her  love  and 
care  in  unstinted  measure;  a  committee  went  often  to  visit 
her  in  the  seclusion  decreed,  but  eact  time  returned  with 
sorrowing  faces;  she  was  getting  worse  instead  of  better. 

At  last  she  was  told  the  termination  could  only  be  fatal. 
The  knowledge  was  no  shock  to  her,  for  she  had  been  in- 
wardly prepared,  and  she  insisted  on  returning  to  her  peo- 
ple while  she  yet  had  strength  to  say  good-by.  She  stood 
among  them  for  the  last  time;  she  addressed  her  farewell 
to  them  from  the  pulpit  that  meant  such  infinite  things  to 
her.  The  church  was  thronged  by  a  hushed  assembly; 
many  faces>  streaming  with  unnoticed  tears,  looked  up  to 
her  face,  of  a  pearly  pallor,  which  was  uplifted  by  an  ex- 
pression that  remained  in  their  hearts  to  their  dying  day. 

She  spoke  to  them  with  the  tenderness  of  a  mother  bid- 
ding her  children  adieu.  Her  voice  throbbed  with  yearning 
in  their  behalf.  She  comforted  them  with  the  comfort 
wherewith  she  had  been  comforted.  She  transcended  grief 
and  rose  to  hope ;  to  the  divine,  the  glorious  hope  that  cries, 
0  death,  where  is  thy  sting?  0  grave,  where  is  thy  vic- 
tory? She  looked  like  a  spirit  heaven-descended  into  the 
old  barrel-like  pulpit  it  had  been  her  intention  next  to 
have  removed  (they  treasured  it  as  a  sacred  relic).  She 
leaned  upon  its  dark  sides,  and  her  hands  were  long  and 
pale  like  lilies.  She  was  clothed  in  white  raiment,  and  her 
hair,  that  the  pressure  of  pain  had  swiftly  blanched,  made 
a  silver  setting  to  the  chiseled  face  and  great  dark  eyes, 
burning  deep  in  their  sockets,  through  which  the  soul 
shone. 

When  she  came  down  among  them  afterwards,  they  gath- 
ered about  her,  weeping,  sobbing,  trying  to  touch  her,  to 
lay  hold  if  only  of  her  dress,  as  though  thus  they  might 


318  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

keep  her  with  them.  The  strain  grew  past  endurance 
shortly,  and  two  of  the  elders  caught  her  as  she  fainted, 
and  carried  her,  a  sadly  light  weight  for  all  her  height, 
away  from  the  eyes  of  the  congregation. 

Mercy  Maitland  and  Lucy  found  themselves  side  by  side 
in  the  crowd  which  stayed  with  stifled  sobs  to  learn 
whether  or  no  their  beloved  would  recover  consciousness. 

"If  she  survives,"  said  Lucy,  her  countenance  alight, 
"she  shall  be  my  care  henceforward;  I  shall  stay  with  her 
until  the  end." 

"It  is  fit,"  replied  Mercy,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

Bertha  did  recover  consciousness;  the  cup  of  suffering 
was  held  to  her  lips  for  many  months  thereafter,  while  she 
drank  of  it  slowly,  drop  by  drop,  to  the  bitterest  dregs. 
She  was  aware  now  of  what  she  had  to  expect,  and  she  did 
not  falter,  realizing  that  the  soul  is  superior  to  any  cir- 
cumstance, and  that  the  inevitable  can  be  endured  until 
it  works  release. 

Her  chief  solace  and  support  during  these  crucial  months 
was  Lucy,  though  Agnes  and  Mercy  went  to  and  fro  several 
times,  bringing  cheer  and  taking  away  inspiration;  but 
their  lives  were  held  by  other  duties.  Lucy's  supreme  use 
was  here.  The  inaccessible  soul  had  left  its  aerie  and  stood 
on  quiet,  tireless  feet  beside  this  bed  of  anguish ;  the  tender 
heart  and  nursing  hands  had  found  their  ceaseless  occupa- 
tion. She  went  to  Bertha  as  soon  as  she  left  the  church, 
and  took  charge  with  such  efficient  authority  that  there 
was  no  question  of  acceptance;  she  stayed  with  her  in 
absolute  devotion  until  the  last.  Yet  for  some  time  their 
hearts  did  not  lie  against  each  other. 

One  day,  apropos  of  nothing  at  all,  Bertha  said : 

"I  was  all  wrong  you  know,  Lucy,  in  sending  your 


A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE  319 

mother's  furniture  away  and  doing  your  room  over  in  spite 
of  you.  I  thought  I  was  serving  you  a  good  turn,  but  it 
simply  shows  how  much  I  needed  still  to  learn  of  sensibil- 
ity, and  not  to  interfere." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Lucy  quietly,  combing  the  long, 
softened  hair  with  a  new  touch  of  tenderness.  The  trivial- 
ity of  the  event  but  made  more  apparent  the  simplicity  of 
spirit  eager  ever  to  learn ;  obviously  Bertha  was  capable  not 
only  of  making  good  a  constitutional  defect,  but  of  sur- 
passing limitations  endlessly. 

This  incident  led  Bertha  to  relate  her  life's  story  to 
Lucy,  thus  gathering  up  her  whole  history  at  its  end.  The 
process  belonged  to  Lucy  because  she  could  not  take  the 
synthetic  result  without  explanation,  as  her  father  could — 
blessed  are  they  who  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  believed — 
it  belonged  to  her  also  because  her  soul  widened  to  receive 
it.  Through  the  telling  of  the  tale  she  grew  capable  of 
catching  a  glimpse  of  what  God  meant  in  creating  this 
woman.  As  a  life  finishes,  it  rounds  into  a  perfect  globe ; 
all  the  deviations  sink  into  the  general  round,  as  the  un- 
evennesses  of  the  earth,  be  they  Himalayas,  are  no  more 
than  the  pores  of  an  orange-skin  when  seen  from  the 
proper,  the  heavenly,  distance. 

Bertha  was  already  at  this  lofty  outlook  and  she  lifted 
Lucy  to  contemplation  beside  her. 

"I  never  thought  of  myself  as  unchaste,"  she  commented 
at  one  point  calmly,  "but  my  life  with  your  father 
taught  me  otherwise.  I  hadn't  meant  to  be,  but  I  was, 
unclean;  chastity  had  to  be  acquired.  It  lay  ahead,  not 
behind — a  chastened  state  of  soul  to  which  life,  in  spite 
of  every  debasing  experience,  may  lift." 

Lucy  took  Bertha's  large,  well-formed  hand,  emaciated 
now,  and,  bending  her  head,  held  it  long  to  her  lips.  She 


320  A  VICTORIOUS  LIFE 

did  so  humbly  for  herself — how  blind  she  had  been ! — ex- 
ultingly  for  this  other,  to  whom  she  gave  true  value  at 
length  when  all  fleshliness  was  cleansed  from  the  fair  spirit. 

Bertha's  great  eyes  rested  on  her  appreciatively,  yet  in 
them  was  a  detached  expression  as  she  resumed. 

"Experience  has  come  to  purge  my  soul,  to  purify  me  as 
by  fire;  this  suffering  is  its  consummation.  When  I  leave 
I  shall  have  graduated  from  the  school  of  anguish.  I  don't 
ask  to  have  the  term  shortened;  far  less  would  I  wilfully 
hasten  its  end.  If  God,  who  is  love,  leads  us  into  the  fur- 
nace, it  is  because  he  sees  it  is  what  we  most  need.  If  we 
say,  No,  I  won't  bear  it!  to  one  who  is  entirely  loving, 
entirely  wise,  we  deny  that  we  are  capable  of  sharing  his 
nature,  of  becoming  perfect,  through  whatever  means. 
There  is  nothing  I  want  so  much  as  to  be  clean,  like  God ; 
if  this  fiery  discipline  is  the  way  to  achieve  the  end,  it  is 
the  way  of  all  others  I  choose.  So  long  as  I  cling  to  this 
thought,  all  is  well;  but  sometimes,  Lucy,  it  forsakes  me; 
then  I  am  in  the  midst  of  the  furnace  alone — the  sense  of 
desolation  is  unspeakable.  But  it  is  not  for  long."  The 
gloom  faded,  the  glory  came  into  her  eyes.  "Endurance 
of  what  passes  leads  to  that  which,  abides — life  everlasting 
— love — joy " 


